The Bride of the Scarecrow
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: With everyone's lives apparently moving forward, Jonathan Crane feels left out at being the only one without a family or a relationship. But all that is about to change when he meets a young woman called Emilia Lee, damaged by life and maybe just special enough to love the Scarecrow.
1. Chapter 1

**The Bride of the Scarecrow**

"Happy birthday, Jonathan!" exclaimed the voice of Jervis Tetch, as a burst of light suddenly awoke Jonathan Crane from sleep. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes to glare at Tetch, who was standing by the open window, sunlight streaming into the room.

"Am I not allowed to sleep in on my birthday?" he muttered.

"No, you're not," retorted Tetch. "Not when you're staying with me, anyway. I've prepared an excellent birthday breakfast for you, and I don't want it to get cold."

Crane's pet raven, Lenore, had also been rudely awakened by the sunlight, and ruffled her feathers on her bust of Pallas perch, cawing in annoyance. She fluttered onto Crane's shoulder, nuzzling his cheek.

"Good morning, my beauty," he murmured, petting her. "I agree, it is too early."

"You shouldn't waste away the day celebrating your birth by sleeping," retorted Tetch. "We have far too much to do."

Crane sighed. "I hope your birthday breakfast includes tea," he said, reaching for his robe. "I need something to wake me up."

"Would any meal of mine not include tea?" asked Tetch. "I wasn't known as the Mad Hatter for nothing, you know, Jonathan."

They entered the dining room, where a sumptuous spread had been laid out, in the center of which was a large cake with the words _Happy Birthday, Jonathan! _written on it.

"This is very kind of you, Jervis," said Crane, sincerely. "But honestly I'm not usually one to make a fuss over my birthday. I never wanted parties or anything like that…"

"Well, I do," retorted Tetch. "And as you're my guest, I hope you'll put up with the inconvenience of celebrating your birth. Honestly, Jonathan, everyone should be happy on their birthday."

"Why?" asked Crane. "Who else is happy that I was born?"

"I am," said Tetch. "Our guests coming for the party later are. Lenore is," he said, nodding at the raven, who squawked in agreement. "Now you're not going to ruin the party atmosphere by being all gloomy, are you?"

"I'm not gloomy," snapped Crane. "I just don't see the point in making a fuss, that's all. I'm another year older. Another year closer to death. Why would anyone celebrate that?"

"I can see you are going to be gloomy," sighed Tetch. "When all I'm trying to do is celebrate the birth of a man who has brought a great deal of happiness into my life. My one and only friend, who has seen me through so many difficulties. And he can't even put on a cheerful face, after all my effort."

"Well, it is my day – I have a right to be gloomy if I like," retorted Crane, sipping his tea. "But I will try to be cheerful, for your sake, Jervis. Nobody has ever thrown me a party before, and it's honestly very touching."

"Well, what are former lunatic best friends for?" asked Tetch, smiling. "Now do have a scone while they're hot."

Crane broke off bits of the scone and fed them to Lenore, trying to keep the melancholy thoughts at bay. But he was a man of a naturally melancholic disposition, and his birthday had never been an occasion for great joy. When he was a boy, his parents hadn't believed in parties or gifts, so he mostly spent his birthdays reading alone, just as he did most every other day. Which was fine, until he saw that the other children often had parties and friends over exchanging gifts, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at how happy everyone looked. He had told himself that he hadn't really wanted anything like that anyway, but he hadn't been able to convince himself of the truth of that statement.

And it hadn't seemed like he'd come a long way, although many, many years had passed since he was a boy. He was still alone – Tetch was his best friend, but he had cured himself while Crane was still considered legally insane. And although he was temporarily free after his latest break-out, he knew he'd probably eventually be dragged back to Arkham Asylum, courtesy of Batman, and Tetch would no longer be there. Tetch had moved on with his life, embracing his duties as godfather to Alice's child, Catherine. While Crane had remained trapped in the same cycle of inflicting fear and terror on the masses, and rewarded by stints in Arkham. His life often seemed rather pointless in comparison to his friend's.

"Who's coming to the party later?" asked Crane, trying to distract himself from his depressing thoughts. "Will Alice and Catherine be there?"

"Sadly they're away," said Tetch. "The whole family is on vacation in Disney World. Alice sent me a postcard from some tea cup ride which she said reminded her of me."

Crane wondered for a moment what it would be like to go on a family vacation – his parents had never taken him anywhere. And obviously he didn't have a family of his own to pamper…

He ripped his thoughts away from subjects of that nature, and said, "Well, it's good that they're having fun."

"But Harley and her family are coming," said Tetch.

"Oh," said Crane, frowning slightly.

"What's wrong? I thought you'd want Harley to be here," said Tetch.

"Yes, she's very welcome," said Crane. "It's her family I'm dreading."

"Oh, the children aren't that bad," said Tetch. "Quite cute, if you ask me."

"The boy is a miniature version of his father," muttered Crane. "And just as irritating."

"He's only six months old," said Tetch. "You can't tell at that age what a child is really like."

"I can," retorted Crane. "And Joker Junior is a very apt name for the boy."

It had been a little over a year ago now that Crane's dreams were completely dashed, not that they had ever been very realistic dreams to begin with. He had been in love with Harley Quinn for a long time now, but she had obviously been so infatuated with the Joker that Crane knew deep down that his own love was always to remain unrequited. This was confirmed when Harley fell pregnant with the Joker's children, and gave birth to a healthy set of twins, a girl and a boy, called Arleen and Joker Junior, or J.J. for short. Harley was a mother now, and while still an incredibly attractive woman, Crane had finally accepted that she and the Joker were ultimately inseparable, for the sake of the children if nothing else. Besides, he could never see himself raising the Joker's children even if he and Harley did eventually break up. The children were too much like their father, even at this young age. No, it was best that Crane tried to get over his own infatuation with Harley, and accept that he would forever be alone. Harsh truths were better than false hope anyway.

His thoughts seemed fixed on their gloomy course, no matter how he tried to steer them otherwise, he thought with a frown. Birthdays really did bring out the worst in him, apparently. But perhaps the party later would change his view of them.

It didn't. And that was mostly due to one guest in particular, whose purpose in life was to make everybody else the punchline of his jokes.

"Johnny! Happy birthday! Another year closer to dying alone, am I right?" asked the Joker, laughing as he entered the house, carrying his son in his arms, who giggled at him.

"Hello, Joker. Good to see you," muttered Crane, insincerely. "Harley, you're looking lovely," he said, sincerely this time, as Harley Quinn followed the Joker inside, holding her daughter who smiled up at her. "Motherhood suits you, I see."

"Oh yeah," agreed Harley, smiling. "I ain't never been happier in my whole life! The babies are just precious little miracles, and make my every day a joy and a blessing beyond my wildest dreams!"

Needless to say, this didn't make Crane feel any better about being alone, but his mood was improved as Harley handed Arleen to Joker and then gave Crane a big hug. "Happy birthday, Johnny," she said, beaming at him. "I dunno why you've never had a party before, but I'm glad you're having one now. Mr. J don't have birthday parties either, but that's because he don't remember when his birthday is, or how old he is."

"Bet you remember how old you are, huh, Craney?" chuckled Joker. "Is it rude of me to ask?"

"Yes," retorted Crane. "We're not mentioning my age today."

"Gotcha," said Joker, nodding. "I hear a lotta older women don't like their ages being broadcast, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you don't either."

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Crane, but before he could get an answer, Tetch entered the room bearing the cake.

"Hello, hello!" he said. "Harley, Joker, good to see you! How are the little angels today?" he asked. "Are they allowed sweets? I always keep sweets around for little Alice…"

"Are my kiddies allowed sweets!" chuckled Joker. "Of course they are!"

"Yes, giving sugar to already hyper children – excellent idea," muttered Crane, as Tetch went to fetch Arleen and J.J. some candy. Their parents put them down on the floor and they were off instantly, already crawling around and exploring at this young age. They took the candy Tetch offered, stuffing it into their mouths and then looking up expectantly at him.

"Yeah, they're gonna want more than one piece," laughed Joker.

"Ake," said J.J., pointing at the cake.

"Yes, we'll have cake later, baby," cooed Harley, picking him up and kissing him.

"Ake!" repeated J.J., firmly.

"Now, J.J., it's not your birthday," said Harley. "It's Johnny's birthday, and we're gonna wait to have cake when he wants. Ok?"

J.J. said nothing, but the moment his mother released him, he crawled over to the table with the cake on it, staring up at it in longing. His sister followed him, and they jabbered at each other, not making much sense to anyone else.

"Brought you a present, Johnny," said Harley, reaching into her bag.

"I wanted to buy you a hooker, but Harley said no," said Joker, smiling at him. "But I bet that's the only present you really want, huh?"

"No, it's not, Joker," sighed Crane, already sick of dealing with him, and it had barely been five minutes.

Harley handed him a wrapped gift, and Crane opened it to reveal a small gold chain with a pendant, and the inscription "_For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore_."

"It's for your bird," explained Harley, nodding at Lenore, who cawed happily. "From the poem _The Raven_."

"Oh, Harley, it's beautiful!" exclaimed Crane. "Thank you so much! Come here, my pretty," he said, placing the chain over her neck. Lenore cooed, ruffling her feathers and proudly displaying the collar.

"You look so beautiful, my precious," he said, stroking the raven's feathers.

"Yeah, kinda sad that the bird's the only female you're ever gonna say that to, huh?" chuckled Joker.

Crane was about to snap at him, when they suddenly heard a crash, and everyone turned to see that Arleen and J.J. had worked together. Climbing on top of each other, they had managed to reach the overhanging tablecloth which sat underneath the cake. They also managed to pull it off the table and onto the floor, sending the cake plummeting down with it. They settled down next to the remains, beginning to stuff it into their mouths, gurgling happily.

"Oh, babies!" exclaimed Harley, racing over. "I love you both to death, but you are just constantly causing mischief!"

"Take after their Daddy!" chuckled Joker.

"I'm so sorry about the cake, Johnny," said Harley, fighting to pull her children away from it. "And the mess, Jervis."

"It's fine, Harley – children will be children," said Crane through gritted teeth.

"Let me just get them something sugary that hasn't been on the floor," said Tetch. "I made some sweet rolls the other day…"

"You know, Jervis, you might not like those pedophile rumors, but you sure don't help them by having a house full of sweet things to tempt kiddies," laughed Joker.

"My goddaughter is over a lot," retorted Tetch. "And she likes sweets. There's nothing wrong in that."

"Joker, why do you feel the need to constantly insult and undermine everyone?" asked Crane.

Joker shrugged. "Dunno. It's fun, I guess. I've come to terms with who I am, and accepted myself. I'm proud to be insulting and irritating. Why would you try to undermine my self-esteem by criticizing me?"

"Because that's what you do to everyone else!" snapped Crane.

"Two wrongs don't make a right, Johnny," said Joker, grinning. "If you were a father, you'd try to set a good example for your kiddies, like I do. But you ain't a father, are you? So I guess you can act however you want – nobody looks up to you and admires you, so it really doesn't matter what you do."

Crane's teeth gritted together in fury, but Lenore nuzzled his cheek, cawing gently. He managed to control his temper for the rest of the party, but only just, since the Joker kept making snide remarks about how alone Crane was, as opposed to how happy and fulfilled he was. Crane was very glad when Harley said they had to leave to put the children down for their naps, although judging by their enthusiastic crawling and giggling, it didn't seem likely that they were actually going to sleep anytime soon.

"Well, it's always nice to see Harley," said Crane after they had all left.

"Yes," sighed Tetch. "But the Joker has always been a pain. And always will be."

"And yet I don't imagine we'll be seeing one without the other anymore," said Crane. "Their weekly break-ups seemed to have stopped since Harley's pregnancy."

"That must be a relief for her at least," said Tetch.

"Yes," agreed Crane. "More of a reluctant resignation for the rest of us, that she'll always be chained to that brute."

"Some people voluntarily chain themselves to people," said Tetch, shrugging. "And end up loving those chains."

"Yes, most people are more fortunate than me," snapped Crane. "You don't have to join the Joker in reminding me."

"I wasn't…" began Tetch.

"I'd just like some time alone, all right?" interrupted Crane, heading for his room.

"Yes, fine…but take your present with you," said Tetch, racing to place a wrapped gift into his hand.

Crane entered his room, shutting the door. Lenore fluttered over to her usual perch, still eyeing her collar with bright, shining eyes, as Crane sat down on his bed. He sighed, unwrapping the gift, and opened the box to reveal a beautiful old book, leather bound and slightly frayed. "It's a first edition," he murmured to himself. "Of the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe."

He sighed again, and then stood up, opening the door. "Jervis!" he called.

"Yes?" asked Tetch.

Crane looked at him for a moment, and then embraced him tightly. "Thank you," said Crane, sincerely. "For the gift, for the party, for letting me stay here on the run…for everything, really. And for being my friend. I may be in a rather gloomy mood, but don't think for a moment that I don't appreciate your friendship. I'd be absolutely lost without it."

Tetch smiled. "Well, sometimes one must lose oneself before one truly finds oneself," he said, hugging him back. "As Alice did in Wonderland."

"Are there any life lessons you don't take from Lewis Carroll, Jervis?" asked Crane.

Tetch shrugged. "The Alice books are works of nonsense, and life is often nonsensical. What other guide should one have?"

Crane nodded. "I suppose I can't argue with that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a first edition to read. What a perfect way to spend the rest of my birthday."

Crane read for the remainder of the day and into the night. It grew late, and he decided he should probably go to bed, but his thoughts kept him awake long after the lights had gone off.

Crane was the Master of Fear, and he knew that in the darkness, a person's greatest fears were revealed. The darkness took the cares and fears and worries of life and brought them to light, with a grim shadow of clarity. And Crane had been miserable enough in the daylight, but now as he lay in the darkness, his life flashed before his eyes, and he saw in it only failure. Everyone he had seen today had made something of their lives. Even the Joker, the man who took nothing seriously, the man whose one ambition in life was to keep fighting a man in a bat costume night after night, even a man as evil and unpleasant as him had something to live for outside his own selfish existence. Crane had nothing. He had friends, and he was grateful for that, but they had other priorities now. Their families came first, as they should. And it was a hard realization to consider that he came first to no one.

With his depressing thoughts, he lay awake with the lights off, tossing and turning and disturbing Lenore, who kept waking up on her perch at every movement from him.

At last he sat up in bed, snapping on the light again, and then stood up, grabbing his clothes and changing back into them. Lenore squawked in annoyance, snapping open her eyes again.

"You don't have to come with me if you don't want to," he retorted.

Lenore responded by fluttering onto his shoulder and giving him a light peck with her beak, as if chastising him for thinking of going anywhere without her.

She watched him quizzically as they drove, heading toward unfamiliar territory, at least to Lenore. She squawked slightly, and Crane seemed to understand her, for he nodded.

"Yes, my beauty, I know where I'm going. I've been there many times before, even if you haven't. Before your time. Before the Scarecrow's time, really. Except not quite. He's always been with me, my whole life. Very little about my life has changed since then, really."

He drove his car through a set of wrought iron gates that read _Gotham University_, never suspecting that his life was about to.


	2. Chapter 2

Gotham University's pride and joy, aside from its football team, was its library. The building was huge, ten floors of nothing but books on every subject imaginable. The architecture, like most everything in Gotham City, was based on a Gothic design, and the feel was intentionally medieval, with stone buttresses and carved gargoyles perching in between the shelves.

Although God knows why, thought Emilia Lee, as she entered the library shutting the wrought iron doors after her. The medieval period was largely comprised of the Dark Ages, a terrible time for learning, when most of the knowledge of the Greeks and the Romans was almost lost forever. It seemed an odd paradox that the center of learning at Gotham University should want to emulate a time when learning was frowned upon. But then she suspected whoever designed the building hadn't really appreciated the irony.

She flicked on her flashlight as she walked down the corridors of books, her footsteps echoing on the tiles. Not that she needed it – she knew the library like the back of her hand. That was her job as librarian, and her pleasure, even though she knew she wasn't supposed to be here on her own, or this late.

Not that she hadn't done this before. For the past six months, Emilia had snuck back into the library after the other employees had locked up to read alone. She suffered from bouts of insomnia, which she mitigated by reading anything and everything she could get her hands on. And she also shared an apartment with a roommate called Brittany, who could kindly be described as socially active. And so rather than spending sleepless nights listening to her roommate loudly enjoying her latest fling, she came here, for the quiet and the solitude and the peace of being surrounded by books. It was a pleasure unlike anything else, a haven and a safety for her.

Her roommate had caught her sneaking out once, and Emilia had lied and told her she was spending the nights at a man's house. Brittany already thought of her as a weirdo, and there was no need to further that impression by telling her the truth. Unfortunately, her idea had backfired, as Brittany demanded her to tell her everything about this imaginary boyfriend of hers. Emilia had had to make notes on what she had told Brittany about him, so that she wouldn't slip up. It was almost better to be thought of as a freak than carry on the charade.

But Emilia had been thought of as a freak her whole life, so it was a rather pleasant change for once not to be. She had got glasses at the age of six, one of the youngest children in her school to have them, and naturally got picked on for it. She had been very quiet throughout her childhood, having few friends and preferring to read rather than interact with the other children. And naturally this made the other children pick on her too, which gave her no desire to ever interact with the other children. It was a vicious cycle.

Her high school years hadn't been much better. Having been picked on for her appearance her whole life, she made no effort to dress in a fashionable way, preferring baggy, comfortable clothes and wearing no makeup. Which the other girls in her school constantly belittled her for, calling her ugly, even though she was actually objectively a rather attractive young woman, with a naturally pretty face, and a slim, petite figure which she did her best to hide away.

As much as she tried not to let the words of her fellow students affect her, she found herself an increasingly depressed teenager, and this did not improve when her parents died suddenly in a car crash. Her parents had always shown her unconditional love and devotion, and their loss, and her subsequent stay in foster care, led her to increasingly desperate acts, even going so far as to self-harm occasionally. She still bore scars on her arms from the acts, which led her to always wear long sleeves, even in the summer.

Nevertheless, she had a bright, intelligent mind, and managed to get into a good college, where she threw herself heart and soul into her studies, having nothing else to be passionate about. She earned a bachelors degree in English Literature, and a masters degree in library science, which set her on the career path to be a librarian, which was really all she could think to do with her life. She could never teach, not having had the best experiences in schools, and she loved books, so working in a library had seemed a natural fit. She had moved to Gotham when she got the job at the library six months ago, found a roommate through online ads, and now spent her days and nights surrounded by books, the best and only friends she had ever had.

She had curled up in a chair in her favorite corner, and opened the book she was reading, when she suddenly heard a noise. The door to the library was being opened – which was bizarre, because she was sure she had locked it behind her. Unless whoever opened it had a key, which seemed unlikely…

She flicked her flashlight off as she heard footsteps heading toward a different part of the library. Cautiously she stood up, and followed the sound up a flight of stairs to the psychology section.

She carefully crept through the shelves of books until she came across a tall, thin man leafing through the volumes, a bird perched on his shoulder. He had turned the lights on in the section, indicating some familiarity with the library, although Emilia was pretty sure she'd never seen him before. She should probably go alert the police that there was an intruder in the library, but that might lead to awkward questions about what she was doing in the library at this hour. Still, some of these books were valuable antiques, and she wasn't about to let anyone steal them. So she cleared her throat and said, in her most authoritative voice, "The library's closed."

The bird snapped its head around to caw at her irritably, but the man stroked his finger gently down its spine, calming it. "There, there, my precious," he murmured, not even bothering to turn around. "No need to get agitated."

"The library's closed," repeated Emilia.

"Indeed? Then might one ask what you are doing here?" asked the man, turning to face her.

She glared at him, arms folded across her chest. "I work here," she retorted. "I'm allowed to be on this property whenever I like. You, however, are trespassing."

"I have a key," he said, holding it up. "And they are given to all senior academic staff of the university. So I think you'll find that I'm allowed to be here."

"Are you a senior academic staff member?" asked Emilia. "I've never seen you around if so."

"I was," he replied, nodding. "And you'll forgive me if I chose not to surrender the key to the library on my departure. But I will not be deprived of a treasure trove such as this merely because I no longer choose to work in a university that discourages free thought and scientific experimentation. It'll take more than that idiot Dr. Long's word to keep me from these books. He has no authority over knowledge, whatever he likes to think."

"What's your name?" asked Emilia.

"I'm Professor Jonathan Crane," he retorted. "I used to teach psychology here."

"I'm afraid I've never heard of you," she said.

He smiled. "No, I wouldn't be widely talked about, I don't think. I believe they consider me rather an embarrassment, and would prefer to hide my association with this facility from the public at large."

"Why? What have you done?" asked Emilia.

"I have furthered the interests of science," retorted Crane. "And I will not be blamed for that."

He turned back to the books. "I have no quarrel with you – leave me to my reading and research and you will not be harmed."

Emilia snorted. "No offense, but I doubt you could harm anyone. I think I could probably take you in a fight, and I'm not the best fighter."

"Not all harm is physical, my dear," he murmured, flipping a page in the book.

She stood her ground. "Even if you are allowed to be here, pets are definitely not allowed in the library," she said, nodding at Lenore.

"Where I go, she goes," retorted Crane, and Lenore squawked in agreement. "She's very well trained, I assure you."

"How well trained can a raven be?" she asked.

He turned back to her, smiling. "I'll show you. Come here, my pretty," he said, and the raven hopped down from his shoulder onto his wrist. He whispered some words to her, and she flew over to Emilia, digging her claws into her shoulder and making her wince in pain.

"If I signal to her, she will peck out your eyes," murmured Crane, his hand raised, as Lenore kept a death grip on Emilia's shoulder.

Emilia tried not to panic, her eye caught by the glint of gold around the raven's neck. Strangely enough, in this dangerous situation, her attention was drawn by the mundane, and she read the line on her pendant. "Lenore?" she asked. "Like in Poe's _The Raven_?"

Crane held his hand where it was. "You…are familiar with the works of Edgar Allan Poe?"

"He's my favorite," she said. "I thought about changing my name to Annabel a lot, since my last name's Lee. But for one reason or another, I've kept Emilia."

Crane said nothing, but whistled softly to Lenore, who released Emilia, flying back over to perch on his shoulder and cooing. "I would be loathe to blind a young lady who likes to read," he said, petting the raven. "So I tell you again, leave me to my research."

She nodded. "All right. I'll let it slide just this once. But if I catch you in here again at night, I'm going to report you."

"I shall have to return on a night when you're not here, then," retorted Crane.

"I'm usually here," retorted Emilia.

"Then we are at an impasse," he said. "Because I'm not going to stop coming here. This library contains everything I need to further my research, and I need to occupy myself with work at the moment. If you feel the need to report me, then do so, but I doubt you'll find anyone eager to act on your report."

"And why's that?" she asked.

Crane smiled. "I have quite a talent for inspiring fear. Indeed, it is what I most pride myself on. But by all means, spread the word if you don't believe me. I would look forward to thinking of most of my former colleagues' reactions if you told them Professor Crane was back."

Emilia frowned. "So you expect me to just let you come and go in my library, whenever you please…"

"It's not your library," he interrupted. "And I've already told you, knowledge is not the possession of one person. You shouldn't want to keep all these books locked up in here, and anyone who wants to read them should be welcome. That is their purpose, and to deprive something of its purpose is very cruel indeed. Are you a cruel young lady?"

"I am an employed young lady," retorted Emilia. "And I doubt I'll stay that way long if someone finds out that I let just anyone browse the library at night…"

"Then it is in your best interests not to report me, isn't it?" interrupted Crane, turning back to the book. "Very good. Now that that's settled, please go."

Emilia saw that it was useless to protest further, and turned on her heel and stormed off back downstairs. She picked up her book again, annoyed and infuriated at the nerve of that man. And she especially resented him intruding on her alone time, in her space, which is what she thought of the library as. The thought that he might return every night filled her with rage at this flagrant invasion of her privacy. But there appeared to be very little she could do about it, short of finding a new place to read at night.

But maybe if they just stayed in their own separate sections, it didn't need to be a problem. They could have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Not that she'd want anything to do with him anyway, since he was clearly a rather unstable man. Although maybe he had been bluffing about the bird being able to blind her, and about people being afraid of him…maybe that was just talk to scare her off and make her leave him alone…

Hours passed until she heard his footsteps coming back down the stairs. "Goodnight," she snapped, looking up from her book.

"Goodnight," he replied, opening the door without looking back. "See you tomorrow night."

He slammed the door, and Emilia glared back down at her book, fuming. First thing tomorrow morning she was going to ask around about this Professor Crane, and see if he was really as feared as he claimed. She highly doubted it.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Emilia arrived at the library and sat down at her computer to do some digging in the university staff files. She found the section for former staff, but could find no mention of a Professor Crane. There appeared to be no mention of him in the university's archives at all.

"Maybe he was just lying," muttered Emilia to herself. "But he did have a key…I suppose he could have stolen it."

She browsed the other staff members, remembering that Crane had mentioned a Dr. Long. He was the dean of the colleges of arts and sciences, and the head of the psychology department. "Maybe he'll know about this Professor Crane," she murmured, writing down his office number to investigate on her lunch break.

She knocked on the door to Dr. Long's office. "Come in!" he called.

She obeyed, to see a bald old man with a white mustache and glasses looking up at her. "May I help you?" he asked.

"I hope so, Dr. Long," she said. "I was hoping to locate a former staff member of this department."

"Oh. Well, administration isn't really my area, but of course I'll do what I can to help," said Dr. Long, putting down his pen. "Who is it you're trying to locate?"

"Professor Jonathan Crane," said Emilia.

Dr. Long's face paled and a look of terror shot into his eyes. "Um…I'm afraid I don't…know anyone by that name," he stammered.

"Are you sure?" asked Emilia, since he was obviously lying. "I have it on good authority that he used to be a member of staff here…"

"You're mistaken," interrupted Dr. Long. "Quite mistaken, young lady. I've never heard that name before. Now if you'll excuse me, I have quite a lot of work to do…"

"It's very important," interrupted Emilia, as he tried to usher her toward the door. "And I know you do know something about him, since you wouldn't be afraid of a man you'd never heard of, would you? And you're clearly afraid, Dr. Long."

"You'd be afraid too!" he hissed. "Not knowing if that psychotic nutjob is out there somewhere, plotting his revenge, just like he did all those years ago…"

"What are you taking about?" asked Emilia.

"He's a dangerous man, young lady," snapped Dr. Long. "You stay away from him. Now I really must insist that you leave…"

"No," she retorted. "Not until you tell me what's so scary about Professor Crane."

He glared at her. "Why don't you look up the name the Scarecrow?" he retorted. "And you'll see for yourself."

He slammed the door in her face. Emilia made her way back to the library, fuming in rage. She sat angrily down at her computer again, brought up a search engine, and typed in the Scarecrow.

And her face fell in horror as she realized that the man she had spoken to last night was none other than a notorious supercriminal and raving psychopath. She managed to piece together bits of his history after searching around – he had apparently been employed as a professor of psychology at Gotham University until he was fired by Dr. Long for testing dangerous chemicals, fear-based hallucinogenics, on students. He had gone on a murderous rampage in revenge, attempting to bankrupt the university and punish those who had wronged him, including Dr. Long, before he was stopped by Batman, arrested, and sent to Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Where he was supposed to be incarcerated at the moment, although a recent newspaper ran a story that he had escaped again. And Emilia knew that to be true, since there was no mistaking the man she had seen last night, who was the same man the papers proclaimed to be a criminal lunatic.

Her first instinct was to tell the police that Crane was going to be at the library that night, and she picked up the phone to do just that, when something held her back. It was curiosity. Emilia was no psychiatrist, but she was a woman with an interest in characters and motivations. Anyone who was as voracious a reader as her would be. And she wanted to try to understand Crane's reasons behind his actions before he was removed forever from her life. She had never met anyone dangerous before, after all, and meeting a different type of character, a different type of person from the boring, everyday, normal people she had dealt with her entire life, was irresistibly intriguing. And while curiosity might have killed the cat, Emilia reassured herself that she wasn't a cat, so she'd probably be fine.

That night, she heard the door to the library open, and the footsteps making their way up to the psychology section, and she followed them. "Good evening," she said when Crane flicked on the light.

"Good evening," he said, slightly surprised. "Forgive me, I assumed our arrangement would be you minding your own business and me minding mine, while staying in our separate sections."

"Yes, that was my intention as well," she retorted. "Until I found out who you were. You're the Scarecrow."

"Guilty as charged," he replied, reaching for his book. "One would think after discovering that, you would want even less to do with me. Any sane person would."

"I don't think you're in any position to know what sane people would or wouldn't do," retorted Emilia.

"Well, sanity is a largely arbitrary concept," said Crane, shrugging. "Who's to say who's mad and who's sane, when life itself seems lunatic?"

"A man who uses chemicals to conjure up people's deepest fears probably isn't that sane," said Emilia. "I mean, there's no sensible reason for it, is there?"

"I think that largely depends on your definition of sensible," replied Crane. "I have reasons, and a method to my madness. Just because most people don't understand them doesn't make them any less valid. Most people cannot understand genius, or great art, or the nature of justice."

"And which is your fear toxin?" asked Emilia.

"All of the above," he retorted. "But there's no use trying to explain it to you."

"You don't think I'm smart enough to understand?" she asked.

"Few people have been," he replied.

"Why don't you try to explain it to me?" she asked. "And I'll try to understand?"

He nodded slowly, gesturing to a chair. Emilia sat down, and he sat across from her, Lenore perched on his shoulder and glaring at her with her bright, black eyes. He was silent for a moment and finally said, "Do you know what it is to be bullied?"

"Yes," replied Emilia. "I do."

"I don't just mean occasional teasing – I mean constant, violent behavior day after day," said Crane. "Unrelenting physical and psychological misery inflicted upon you regularly."

"I know something about that, yes," murmured Emilia.

"Then you know what it is to be afraid," he murmured. "Cowering in mortal fear, overriding all other senses and emotions. Nothing but pain and agony and terror ruling your life, blocking out everything else. It is literally a living hell. And it was my life for the longest time, alone and afraid. To an extent it still is, except I am no longer completely alone, and I am no longer afraid. I have mastered fear. And as the Master of Fear, my purpose is to spread that terror, to make all of humanity suffer as I suffered."

"But all of humanity didn't bully you," she pointed out.

"All of humanity turned aside," he murmured. "And they are as much to blame as those who threw the punches and taunted with names. My crusade for justice was not an instant, overnight reaction to my bullying – I daresay it was as carefully thought out as Batman's crusade for justice, assuming the man thinks, which is of course open to debate. Like all scientific endeavors, I tested my evidence multiple times before forming conclusions – it was not only my school experience that made me come to the conclusion that mankind is basically a selfish and evil race that should be punished. Working here, my colleagues were just as cruel and vicious, mocking my research and excluding me from social functions. If I had ever encountered, even once in my life, one unselfish act of kindness toward me, then perhaps I could believe that I am mistaken in my assessment of humanity. But whenever I found beauty and kindness directed toward me, it was always taken away, either by the random cruelty of life, or by some other vile brute of humanity that the person of beauty and kindness chose over me. These people are so beautiful and kind that they can even love monsters, but not me. I am worse than a monster."

"I'm sure that's not true," said Emilia.

"No, perhaps I'm better than a monster," said Crane. "And while the highest of humanity can love the lowest, there is no love for someone who is not quite evil and not quite good. Ambiguous morality is so difficult for most people to comprehend. A person is judged as either good or bad, with no shades of gray. And yet there are very few people on this earth who are entirely good or bad. Heroes and villains are far more complicated in real life than they are in novels."

"Yes, I know," murmured Emilia. "Even the most normal-seeming people feel the need to hurt and destroy others. People cannot be judged by their appearance."

"Yes," he agreed, looking at her. "Do you understand my motivations now?"

"I cannot agree with them entirely, but I understand them," she replied. "Many people have difficult lives, Professor Crane. Many people are made to suffer by others. And what would the world be like if everyone took the law into their own hands to punish them, as you do?"

"Well, it's my belief that the world would be a much better place," retorted Crane. "People would know the punishment for picking on people weaker than they are, and might be encouraged to do less of it. The biggest and strongest would not always be right, the aggressors would not always be in charge. There must always be violence to really change the world, but unless we want to live in a world of brute savages forever, it is a necessary evil. Just as fear is. An evolutionary asset, to prevent humanity from acting in dangerous ways. I am merely harnessing that power to teach humanity how to act civilized."

He shrugged. "But of course, visionaries are always called madmen before they are hailed are visionaries. So I wear that label with a kind of pride, and thank God for madmen."

Emilia was silent. He wasn't a raving lunatic, but perhaps that was even more dangerous. A man who could justify killing people, a man who saw no evil in that…and yet he didn't appear dangerous to her. There had been many times, in Emilia's darkest depressions, where she wished she could inflict her self-harm on others, on the others who had scarred her mind, who deserved the same pain. It was not always crazy to wish the worst kind of punishment on people who deserved it. Sometimes it seemed to her like justice.

"You're very eloquent," she said at last.

"Thank you," he said. "I pride myself on being an intelligent lunatic, whatever else I am."

"You must have been a very good teacher, if that's a sample of your lecturing abilities," she said.

He laughed. "I think you will find few people who would have complimented me as a teacher."

"'To be popular, one must be a mediocrity,'" replied Emilia.

He stared at her. "Oscar Wilde," he said. "_The Picture of Dorian Gray._"

"I like dark stories, what can I say?" she said, shrugging. "Although I am a fan of most of Wilde's work, so I do enjoy comedies now and then."

"Did you specialize in English Literature?" he asked.

"In my undergraduate degree, yes," she replied. "Though having a degree in such a subject is largely a waste of time. It proves I have the ability to read, and write essays looking for hidden meanings in texts where none exist. I might as well have a degree in lying."

"I don't think that's true…" he began.

"Read some literary criticism sometime," she interrupted. "It is true, I assure you. It is an entire industry devoted to interpreting works in such a way as to baffle their authors. I believe most writers write what they mean – anyone who refuses to be clear cannot be a very good writer anyway."

"Do you write?" asked Crane.

"I would like to, someday," she agreed, nodding. "But I have never thought of a good enough story. Maybe I read so much because I'm hoping to find one out there to inspire me. Or, alternatively, I could just enjoy it," she said, shrugging. "But I'm sorry, you're a psychology professor, so you must believe in hidden meanings to both stories and people."

"No," he replied. "Having studied the subject, taught the subject, and now being treated by the subject, I have come to the conclusion that psychology is largely nonsense. But then a friend of mine ranks nonsense very highly, so who knows?"

"Yes," she agreed. "The conclusion of studying English Literature is that anything can mean anything, so there's very little point to it. People use books to further their own agendas without stopping to consider what the work might actually be trying to say. They selectively take bits to justify their own views without challenging their own views at all. But then I suppose that's how most people approach life. Selecting what they want from it, taking bits of evidence to justify their lifestyles without considering the bigger picture of things."

"Is that a thinly veiled criticism of me?" he asked.

"It wasn't a criticism," she retorted. "It was an observation."

Crane smiled. "You're wasted as a librarian, my dear," he replied. "A mind as sharp and as bright as yours should do something productive with her life."

"I could say the same for you," she replied.

"I am very productive, thank you," he retorted.

"Well, it's been a long time now, and you haven't changed the world," she said.

"Good things take time and patience," he replied. "Nothing is worth having that comes easy."

"Do sayings like that help at all?" she asked.

He was silent. "I'm going back to my research now," he said, standing up. "Why don't you go try to find your elusive story idea?"

"Class is dismissed for today, is it?" she asked with a grin.

"Yes," he retorted, heading back to the shelves. He turned back to her. "But see me tomorrow night."

Emilia smiled. "I look forward to it, Professor," she said, heading back downstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

"What are you reading?" asked Emilia as she arrived at the library the next evening to see Crane already seated at a table with a book open in front of him.

"Statistical studies of phobias based on age, gender, race, and class," replied Crane.

"Sounds boring," commented Emilia.

"It is," he agreed, shutting the heavy tome. "What are you reading?"

She held up a book. "_The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_. I've never read it, but I'm vaguely familiar with the story, and you being a teacher called Crane reminded me of it."

"You'll like it – it's one of my favorites," said Crane, nodding. "When I read it as a boy, I couldn't understand why the beautiful young Katrina didn't want to marry the schoolmaster Ichabod. Life and experience has since taught me that beautiful young women tend not to choose educated, refined men over boorish, athletic brutes."

"Some women don't," agreed Emilia. "Though it's hardly a problem confined to one gender. Handsome, attractive men don't tend to pursue brainy, intellectual girls, either. I should know - in high school I had a crush on the class president."

"What happened?" asked Crane.

Emilia looked at him. "Obviously we're married now and incredibly happy with our perfect family," she muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "What do you think happened? I never told him how I felt, and he wouldn't have cared about me even if I had. Most men much prefer women who focus on improving their appearance rather than their minds, and seeing how small a dress size they can fit into rather than how much knowledge they can fit into their brains. Believe me, I live with one, and she's very popular with the opposite sex. It's why I come here every night."

"That must be very tedious for you," he said.

"Oh, she's nice enough," said Emilia. "And she means well. Her heart's in the right place. We just don't have much in common."

"I know something about living with people you have nothing in common with," said Crane, nodding. "It can be very difficult. Especially in a lunatic asylum, as I was."

"Do you live on your own now?" she asked. "You must, if you're hiding from the law."

"No, I have a friend I stay with," said Crane. "A reformed lunatic who used to be confined in Arkham with me. He's a very good friend."

"Oh," said Emilia, raising her eyebrows. "I see."

"A very good friend does not mean a romantic partner!" snapped Crane. "Why does everyone think that?! He's attracted to women, as am I!"

"There's no need to be offended," she snapped. "There'd be nothing wrong if you weren't."

"No, but when you're perpetually mocked just for being close friends with another man, it can grate," growled Crane. "And believe me, in Arkham I was perpetually mocked. For everything. While the brute flaunted his own happy relationship in my face, a relationship he completely undeserved with a woman who was far, far too good for him, and still is…"

He trailed off, opening the book again and glaring down at it. "A woman you cared for?" asked Emilia, gently.

"Yes," he muttered. "A beautiful, kind, sweet, gentle woman…who of course chose the monster over me. Because that is the way of the world, horrible and unfair as it is."

"You're not a very cheerful person, are you?" asked Emilia, dryly.

"I have had very little to be cheerful about," he retorted.

"You have a very good friend," pointed out Emilia. "It's a luxury I don't have, and one I would be very grateful for. Though I suppose my books count."

Crane was silent. "I am very grateful for Jervis," he murmured. "He threw me a birthday party a few days ago."

"Happy belated birthday," said Emilia. "How old are you now?"

"I don't wish to discuss it," snapped Crane.

"That old, huh?" asked Emilia with a grin.

Crane glared at her. "Jervis got me the most excellent present," he continued. "A first edition of Poe's collected works."

Emilia gaped at him. "A first edition? Now that _is _a good friend. My roommate got me perfume for my last birthday, but I suppose it's the thought that counts."

"It's very nice," said Crane.

"I'm not wearing it," she retorted.

"Oh," he said. "Well, then...you have a very nice…natural smell. Which I know is a bizarre thing to say, and actually rather more creepy than complimentary, which wasn't my intention, so please forget I said anything," he said hastily, returning his attention to his book.

Lenore had hopped down from his shoulder and now headed across the table to Emilia, studying her curiously. "Could she really…peck out my eyes?" asked Emilia, glancing up from her book at her.

"Only if I tell her to," replied Crane. "She won't hurt you of her own volition though. You can pet her if you like."

Emilia carefully reached out a hand, stroking a finger down Lenore's spine. The raven cooed happily, ruffling her feathers. "She's beautiful," said Emilia.

"She is," he agreed, smiling at the raven. "My most precious treasure. Aren't you, my beauty?" he asked.

Lenore cawed in response. "It must have taken a lot of work to train her," said Emilia.

"No, she's a fast learner," said Crane. "And a very clever girl. And I raised her from a fledgling, so she's had time to learn. I rescued her after she was pushed out of her nest by the bigger, stronger birds. I suppose I saw something of myself in her, and had some sympathy with her situation."

"So you're kind to animals, but not people?" asked Emilia.

"Animals cannot reason," retorted Crane. "They are ruled by base instincts. Humans are not. They have a brain, an intellect they should use to overcome their base instincts. Animals have an excuse to act savagely. Humans do not."

"She seems a very affectionate animal," said Emilia, as she stroked the raven's feathers which made Lenore coo happily.

"She is," he agreed. "To people she likes."

"And I'm one of those people?" she asked.

"Apparently," replied Crane.

"That's nice," said Emilia, sincerely. "Unusual, though, I'll admit. Normally neither animals nor people take to me."

"Why is that?" asked Crane, puzzled.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Just something about me, I guess. If I could figure out what it was, maybe I'd be able to change it. But I can't, so I've just grown to accept it. I am not well-liked."

"But you seem a very pleasant young lady to me," said Crane.

"Well, you seem a very pleasant man to me," retorted Emilia. "And yet I doubt the population at large likes you."

"It is better to be feared than loved," Crane retorted.

"Machiavelli," said Emilia, nodding. "Idiot."

"That's rather harsh," said Crane.

"He didn't know what he was talking about," retorted Emilia. "Or he never had to live without love. It is always better to be loved than feared, even for a monarch. People will work harder for you if you're liked by them. Which is one of the reasons nobody ever does anything I say."

Crane smiled. "You're very opinionated, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?" she asked. "What else should an intelligent person be? What's the use of reading and gaining knowledge if you can't use it to form opinions? I've never considered the description much of an insult."

"I wasn't trying to insult you," he said. "Actually I find it admirable. I have no time for people who don't know their own minds. Doubt is usually a sign of ignorance more than anything else."

"Do you never doubt?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "No. One thing about the mad is that we are very sure of ourselves, and our purpose. You would find no one in Arkham who doubted themselves for a second. I suppose it comes from a life of having to fight for yourself and what you believe in. You learn to give up the fight very quickly if the courage of your convictions isn't in it. A couple of beatings by Batman would have done it."

"What is Batman like?" asked Emilia. "He must be a fascinating character study for a psychiatrist."

"Oh, he's completely insane," agreed Crane, nodding. "Hypocritical, violent, typical bully. I conjecture he must have had some tragedy in his past, probably early childhood – someone he loved must have been a victim of a crime that simultaneously broke his mind so that he feels the need to dress up in a bat costume, and launched his vendetta against the criminal element as a kind of vengeance under the guise of justice. He's a religious fanatic for justice."

"Maybe his parents were killed," said Emilia, quietly. "That can affect a child very deeply."

"Maybe," agreed Crane.

"Are your parents dead?" she asked.

"I certainly hope so," he retorted.

Tears rose to Emilia's eyes. "That's a horrible thing to say!" she cried, sobbing suddenly.

Crane was shocked at her outburst, as was Lenore, who nuzzled against her, cooing softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you…"

"No, I shouldn't get…so worked up," whispered Emilia, trying to calm down as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "My parents…died when I was a teenager. In a car accident. And I still…miss them every day."

"I'm sorry," Crane repeated. "I truly am…I know what it's like to have someone you love taken from you very suddenly. But my parents…weren't good people. They were very unsympathetic to my bullying, told me to get over it, and blamed me for it…I haven't spoken to them since I left home at eighteen for college. I don't even know if they're still alive."

"You should find out," Emilia murmured. "Maybe you can forgive them, after all this time…you only get one set of parents, after all."

She stood up, shutting her book. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going home," she whispered. "I hate crying, and I especially hate crying in front of people. I'm sorry if I've made a spectacle of myself…"

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," said Crane, standing up. "Please stay if you like. I'll leave if I've upset you – that seems only fair."

"That's kind," said Emilia, managing a smile. "But your book looks heavier than mine. You stay. And I'll hopefully see you tomorrow night when I'm feeling better. Goodnight, Professor Crane. Goodnight, Lenore," she said, petting the raven gently and then turning to go.

"Could I drive you back?" he asked. "I don't like to think of a young lady heading home alone in the dark."

She turned to look back at him. "Are you serious?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She shrugged. "I'm just…not used to gentlemen, I guess. I don't think I've ever met one before."

"One of my fellow lunatics insists that it's benevolent sexism, and that I'm holding female equality back hundreds of years," said Crane, dryly.

Emilia smiled. "I think it's sweet," she murmured. "Thank you, Professor."

They headed out to Crane's car, and Emilia gave directions until he pulled up in a block of very similar-looking apartment buildings in the west side of Gotham.

"This is a nice area," he commented.

"It's fine," said Emilia, shrugging. "It's got a park across the street. Not that I go outside much, but on the rare sunny days in Gotham, it's nice to read under the shade of a tree."

"Yes," agreed Crane. "For the one sunny day out of the whole year, I suppose that would be pleasant."

Emilia grinned. "Thank you for the ride, Professor," she said, opening the door and glancing up at the lights in her apartment. She frowned and sighed. "Looks like Brittany's still awake."

"Is that a bad thing?" asked Crane.

"No," sighed Emilia. "She's just going to want to hear all about my date, so I have to invent some lies to tell her. I didn't want her to think of me as weird, so I tell her I go out at nights to meet a man," she explained.

"Well…I suppose you do now," he said.

She nodded slowly. "Yes. I suppose I do."

There was an awkward silence, and then Emilia cleared her throat. "Well…goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight," he said.

Lenore had been hopping after Emilia when she suddenly shut the car door. Lenore stared at it in puzzlement and then turned back to Crane, cawing in confusion.

"I doubt her roommate would welcome you following her home, my pretty," said Crane, watching Emilia enter the apartment complex. "Anyway, you wouldn't leave me, would you?"

Lenore tapped her beak lightly on his hand and then nodded toward the door to Emilia's apartment. "Don't be ridiculous!" laughed Crane. "_I'm _certainly not going home with her!"

Lenore cawed, questioningly. "Why not? Because it's an absurd idea!" laughed Crane. "She's a young, beautiful, intelligent girl. And I was merely being a gentleman taking her home. And a gentleman doesn't expect favors of women he does nice things for. That's the whole point of being a gentleman – acting unselfishly where women are concerned, with no ulterior motive."

Lenore just looked at him. "Now you get those ideas right out of your head," snapped Crane, starting the car. "Women and me don't end well together, remember? Anyway, the girl's not even interested. And why would she be? A criminal lunatic is hardly a catch."

She squawked in protest. "Yes, I know you don't think that's true, my beauty," he said, smiling. "But you're special."

She cawed insistently. "Well, yes, of course she's special too, but not in that way," retorted Crane. "And she's smart enough to know that getting involved with me would not be a good idea. So get it out of your head at once."

Lenore shrugged, ruffling her feathers and fluttering back up onto his shoulder. "You mustn't get your hopes up, my beauty," he repeated to himself. "Not again."

But she saw him glance back to see Emilia pulling the curtains before he drove off, and Lenore once again silently but lovingly judged humans on how stubborn, blind, and stupid they could be.


	5. Chapter 5

"You're in a very good mood this morning," commented Jervis Tetch, as Crane entered the dining room the next day, whistling.

"Am I?" he asked, taking a seat.

"You're whistling," retorted Tetch. "And I heard you singing in the shower earlier. You never sing in the shower."

"I didn't at Arkham, because the Joker would have strangled me with the shower hose," snapped Crane. "And I don't recall singing in the shower this morning – it must have been an unconscious whim. What was I singing?"

"The Flowers that Bloom in the Spring," retorted Tetch. "Tra la."

"That doesn't sound like me at all," said Crane, frowning, as he helped himself and Lenore to some toast.

"No," agreed Tetch. "I'm beginning to wonder if you're actually Clayface impersonating my friend."

"Ask Lenore," replied Crane. The raven cawed reassuringly at Tetch, nuzzling Crane.

"Is there a reason for your good mood?" asked Tetch, lightly, helping himself to a scone. "You've been going somewhere in the evenings, haven't you?"

"To the University library," replied Crane, nodding. "I'm doing research for my work."

"It must be going very well," commented Tetch, spreading jam and clotted cream onto the scone.

Crane was silent for a moment, feeding Lenore. "Well…actually…I've met a woman there."

"A woman?" repeated Tetch, puzzled. "Who hangs around the University's library at night?"

"Yes," replied Crane.

"And she's a real woman?" asked Tetch. "Not a hallucination?"

"Of course she's a real woman!" snapped Crane. "She works there, and she comes to read in the evenings in peace and quiet!"

"Except you're disturbing her now," said Tetch.

"I'm not disturbing her!" he retorted. "I was perfectly content for both of us to stay reading in our separate sections. She's the one who sought me out to talk!"

"What kind of girl is she?" asked Tetch, pouring the tea.

"Very intelligent," he said. "Extremely well read. And very pretty."

"And you're sure she's not a hallucination?" asked Tetch, skeptically.

"I don't think she knows she's pretty," said Crane. "But she is. Very striking. It just takes more than a brief glance to notice it."

"Does she know who you are?" asked Tetch. "I imagine the Scarecrow's not the kind of thing one just casually brings up."

"Yes, she does," retorted Crane. "Are you implying she wouldn't want to speak to me if she did?"

"I'm just trying to figure out why you haven't asked her out on a date yet," replied Tetch.

Crane laughed. "A date? Honestly, Jervis, you do still talk nonsense!"

"What's nonsense about it?" asked Tetch. "You appear to be enjoying each other's company, and you said you find her attractive…"

"And I'm not naïve enough to assume she feels the same way about me," retorted Crane. "I'm not an objectively attractive man."

"Neither is the Joker, and Harley adores him," pointed out Tetch. "Love is blind, Jonathan."

"Emilia is not in love with me," retorted Crane. "Nor I with her. I barely know the girl."

"Then why were you singing in the shower?" asked Tetch.

"I don't know!" he snapped. "Because I was in the mood to sing Gilbert and Sullivan, all right? Frankly, it's not a completely unheard of mood with me."

Tetch shrugged. "I still think you should ask her out on a date. It would be a good way to get to know her better, and to show your interest. You are interested in her, aren't you?"

"I shouldn't be," retorted Crane, petting Lenore. "It won't end well. It never does, whenever I'm interested in a woman."

Tetch shrugged again, standing up to clear away the breakfast dishes. "Well, as I see it, you have two choices. Pretend you're not interested and try to crush your feelings while remaining lonely and miserable and never knowing if you had a chance not to be…or take a chance and ask the girl to dinner, and maybe start on the road to a happy relationship. The worst she can say is no, and then you'll know you at least have a right to be lonely and miserable."

Crane nodded slowly. "I suppose I can't argue with that logic," he said at last. "And I am used to rejection by now, anyway. Not that it gets any easier, but at least it won't come as a shock."

Nevertheless, Crane felt nervousness gnawing at his stomach as the day wore on and evening fell. He arrived at the library just before Emilia did, who smiled as she sat down at the table next to him, opening her book.

"Good evening," she said, politely.

"Good evening," said Crane, hastily. Lenore sensed his nervousness and nuzzled him gently, trying to calm him. Emilia noticed it too.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes, perfectly," he said, quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She shrugged. "You seem a little anxious."

"Nonsense – what have I got to be anxious about?" he asked.

"An escaped criminal lunatic on the run in Gotham City? Lots of things," replied Emilia, dryly. "Batman, for one."

"No, this has nothing to do with him," he replied.

Emilia nodded, focusing back on her book. "How…was your day?" Crane stammered after a long pause.

"Fine," she said, slightly surprised at the question. "How was yours?"

"Very pleasant, thank you," he replied.

"Good," she said, looking back down at her book.

Crane was afraid she could hear his heart pounding as he tried to find the courage to force the words to his lips. "Um…I was wondering…if you had any plans for the weekend?" he asked.

Emilia laughed, smiling up at him. "Yes, I have several engagements on my always crowded social calendar."

"You're being sarcastic, aren't you?" he asked.

"Nice observational skills, Professor," she replied, grinning. "No, I'll probably spend this weekend just like I spend every other – curled up in my room with a good book. What about you?"

"Well…I was rather hoping…that I might have a dinner companion on…Saturday night," he stammered.

"That's nice," she said. "Who is it?"

He looked at her, trying to speak, and the realization hit her. "Did you just…ask me out on a date?" she asked.

"No," he said, hastily. "No, no, no, I didn't. I had some vague notion that perhaps you'd maybe consider joining me for dinner at some point in the future possibly, but a date…no, I didn't mean that."

"Oh. That's a shame," she said, looking back down at her book. "Because I would have said yes to a date."

"You…you would?" he stammered.

She nodded. "Yeah. I've never been on one before, and I hear they're nice. Are you sure you didn't mean to ask me out on a date?"

"Um…well…if you're…amenable to the…idea, then…I…I…suppose I could," he stammered.

"I wouldn't want to invite myself," she replied. "Or impose upon you for the something you didn't want to do."

"No, no, no, I do want to go on a date with you," he stammered. "Very…very much so."

Emilia smiled, and then frowned slightly. "I'm afraid I haven't anything nice to wear. But I suppose I can always borrow something from Brittany. She has tons of dresses, and some of them must be modest."

"I'm sure you'll look splendid in whatever you wear," he said, sincerely. "As you do now."

"Thank you, but I'm not wearing this on my date," retorted Emilia, nodding down at her plain outfit. "But the glasses will have to stay. I'm blind as a bat without them, and I'm not stabbing myself in the eye with contact lenses."

"I like your glasses," he said. "They bring out your eyes. They're very pretty."

Emilia laughed. "I've never been called pretty before," she said. "Not sincerely, anyway. One of the cheerleaders called me the prettiest ugly pig in school after she shoved my face into the mud, but she was obviously being sarcastic. Not that prettiest ugly pig makes much sense anyway, but she was a little short on brains, as well as manners."

"That's awful," said Crane. "I'm so sorry."

"I suppose you've had worse happen to you," she said. "I didn't become a fear-obsessed, revenge-seeking supercriminal, after all, so you must have had it worse."

"I don't like to think of bullying as a contest," he replied. "There are no winners in it, believe me."

They both went back to reading. "I…understand that it might not mean much after years of insults, but…I think you're a very beautiful young lady," said Crane, gently.

Emilia shrugged. "There are more important things to be than beautiful, or so I've always thought. But thank you. It is nice to hear."

Lenore had hopped down from Crane's shoulder and now stood in the center of the table between them, looking from one to the other with a pleased expression on her face. She cawed, and Crane looked up at her.

"What is it, my precious?"

"Do you think she wants to join us on our date?" asked Emilia. "Because I wouldn't mind, but I'm sure few restaurants allow birds."

"I actually know a place that does, but then it is run by a penguin, so that seems only fair," retorted Crane. "And I wouldn't take you there – Oswald's place is not very nice."

Lenore squawked huffily. "No, my beauty, I'm not taking her to the Iceberg Lounge," retorted Crane. "Anyway, three's a crowd. Why don't you just stay home with Jervis?"

"I honestly don't mind," said Emilia, smiling at Lenore's annoyed expression. "Please bring her – it would ruin my evening to think of her resenting us at home. And it doesn't matter how nice the place is since I've never been on another date to compare it to. You can set the bar as low as you like."

"Thank you for your encouragement, but I'd rather set the bar high, if you don't mind," retorted Crane.

"Why?" she asked, smiling at him. "Then it'll be harder for you to top on our second date."

Crane gaped at her, stunned. "Assuming…assuming there is one, of course," he stammered.

"Well, quite," she agreed, looking back down at her book. "I might not care for the whole dating business at all. But I suspect I will, and I am very rarely wrong, you know."

She smiled at him again and then continued reading. Crane just stared at her, feeling something he had thought long dead rising into his heart. It seemed almost like hope.


	6. Chapter 6

"Haven't you been seeing this guy for like six months?" asked Brittany, as she rifled through her closet on the night of Emilia's date.

"Yes…it's our six month anniversary," invented Emilia. "So I want to look extra special tonight."

"Aw, that's cute," said Brittany, smiling at her. "If any of my relationships ever lasted six months, I'd hope we'd do something special for our anniversary too. What about this one?" she asked, pulling out a short, low-cut, shoulderless dress.

"Let's keep looking," said Emilia, gently. "I'd prefer something long-sleeved, remember?"

"Right, I keep forgetting," she said, returning to her closet. "I don't really have that many long-sleeved dresses. It gets hot in the clubs, and wearing less usually gets more results, if you understand what I mean. Displaying the goods gets guys keen to sample them!" she laughed.

"Yes, I suppose so," agreed Emilia, glancing down at her hands. She had never been one to dress immodestly, and she certainly wasn't going to start now, but she did want to make herself look attractive for Crane. Maybe it was shallow of her, but she had never had a man look at her with desire in his eyes, and she wondered what that would feel like, to be desired, to be wanted…she could only imagine.

But Crane clearly wasn't the type of man who was going to make any sort of move on her tonight, judging by how nervous he had been just asking her out, and she was grateful for that. She felt safe around him – he wasn't the type of man that Brittany dated, who wanted only one thing and just flitted off after he got it. And she had confidence in the fact that Crane wanted to take her to dinner because he genuinely liked her, and did find her attractive, as bizarre as the idea seemed to her.

And she genuinely liked him, which was possibly an even more bizarre idea. She had never imagined a criminal lunatic to be an ideal paramour, and she never could have imagined, when she first read about the Scarecrow, that he would be an intelligent, thoughtful man underneath the mask, a man she very much enjoyed talking to. And a rather sweet man toward others who had suffered as he had suffered. She had read enough to know that a man could do bad things and still be a good man. And despite all the objective evidence to the contrary, she felt somewhere deep in her heart that Crane was a good man.

"What about this one?" asked Brittany, pulling out another dress and startling Emilia from her thoughts. "I know it's not long-sleeved, but you could wear a cardigan over it. What do you think?"

Emilia studied the rather pretty blue dress, ankle-length with shoulder straps, and nodded slowly. "Yes, I have a blue cardigan that should match."

"Why do the sleeves matter?" asked Brittany.

Emilia sighed, and then rolled up her shirt sleeves and held her arms out to Brittany. They were criss-crossed with scars, the pattern looking like a red spider's web down their length. "They're rather unsightly, wouldn't you say?" she asked with a wry smile. "Not the kind of thing men find attractive."

"No," agreed Brittany. "Did you do that to yourself?"

Emilia nodded, rolling down her sleeves again. "I was…in a very bad place mentally as a teenager."

"So was I," agreed Brittany. "I had an eating disorder. Had to spend months in the hospital. We've all been there," she said, patting her reassuringly on the shoulder. "But your boyfriend must know about your scars if you've been seeing each other for six months," she continued.

Emilia shook her head slowly. "I don't ever show my arms."

"But how have you hidden them in bed?" asked Brittany, puzzled.

Emilia was silent, and Brittany's eyes widened. "Oh my God…you've been dating six months and you haven't slept together yet?"

"It's not something I want to rush into," murmured Emilia, honestly. "I've never…done it before and…I want to make sure he's the one before I do."

"And he's ok with waiting?" asked Brittany, shocked. "God, he must be the nicest guy ever!"

"He is," agreed Emilia with a smile. "The perfect gentleman."

Brittany shook her head in disbelief. "Well, you go get changed, and then hurry back so I can do your makeup. You don't have much time before he gets here," she said, glancing at the clock.

"I told you I'd rather not wear any makeup…" began Emilia.

"Just a little," pleaded Brittany. "A little blush and lipstick and mascara, to bring out your eyes, and that's it. I promise."

Emilia sighed, but nodded. "All right. He does like my eyes."

"He sounds like a sweetheart," sighed Brittany. "I can't wait to meet Marmaduke!"

Emilia made a face as she headed off to her room, wishing for not the first time that she had chosen a different name for her imaginary boyfriend. But she had been listening to Gilbert and Sullivan's _The Sorcerer_ featuring a character with that name the day that Brittany had asked her boyfriend's name, and it had just sprung into her head. She had regretted it as soon as she said it, but she was stuck with it now. She'd just have to tell Brittany that Jonathan was his middle name, and that he much preferred going by that.

She changed into the dress, which fit rather nicely, both she and Brittany being of similar slim build. Then she pulled her cardigan over it, glancing at herself in the mirror and being rather pleased with the look. Then she headed back to Brittany's room.

"You look great!" exclaimed Brittany, hugging her. "Now just a teeny bit of makeup, and a splash of that perfume I bought you…"

She had just managed to put on the blush and mascara when there was a knock on the door. "That'll be him…" began Emilia, trying to stand up.

"Just a second," said Brittany, pushing her back down and applying a light coat of lipstick. "You blend that by rubbing your lips together, and I'll get the door."

Emilia hurried to follow her, rubbing her lips as instructed, as Brittany opened the door and beamed, saying cheerfully, "Hi, Marmaduke!"

Crane stood there, wondering for a moment if he had got the wrong apartment, or if Emilia had deliberately sent him elsewhere as a prank. But his fears were unfounded as Emilia appeared, pushing Brittany gently aside and saying, "Actually, Brittany, he prefers to go by Jonathan. Don't you?" she asked, smiling at him.

"I…do," he agreed, still puzzled. "You look absolutely gorgeous," he said, sincerely. "And these are for you."

"Oh, thank you, they're beautiful!" exclaimed Emilia as he handed her a bouquet of flowers. "Where's Lenore?" she asked, looking around for the raven.

"In the car," he replied. "Don't worry – she wouldn't let me leave without her."

"Lenore is Jonathan's pet," explained Emilia, noting the look of confusion on Brittany's face.

"Oh? Dog? Cat?" asked Brittany.

"Raven," replied Crane. "She's very well trained, though."

"I…see," said Brittany.

"Come in for a second while I put these in some water," said Emilia, holding the door open for him. "And then we'll be on our way."

"Are you going someplace nice, I hope?" asked Brittany.

"A friend of mine owns a little place downtown," said Crane.

"Oh, which one? I know all the best restaurants downtown," said Brittany, proudly.

"Brittany, come join me in the kitchen, won't you?" called Emilia before Crane could respond.

"Well, he's kinda cute in a nerdy way," said Brittany, entering the kitchen and lowering her voice. "I can see why you haven't slept with him yet, though."

"What do you mean?" asked Emilia, puzzled as she filled a vase with water.

"Well, he's just…y'know…kinda ugly," said Brittany, shrugging. "I don't mean that to be insulting, but he's just kinda skinny and lanky and gangly and…old. Just generally pretty physically unattractive."

"You think so?" asked Emilia, glancing out at Crane. "I'm afraid I don't see that at all."

"Well, as long as you're happy," sighed Brittany. "Each to their own. You have a good time tonight, baby," she said, hugging her. "And congratulations on your anniversary!" she said as they re-entered the living room where Emilia placed the vase down, and then went to get her bag and coat.

"…yes, thank you," stammered Crane, glancing at Emilia in confusion.

They left the apartment, shutting the door behind them. "Sorry," said Emilia as they headed down the stairs. "I told Brittany you were my imaginary boyfriend of six months, and this was our anniversary. Hence the Marmaduke."

"I see," he said. "Marmaduke?"

"I had been listening to a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta…" began Emilia.

"_The Sorcerer_," finished Crane, nodding.

She stared at him. "You're familiar with the works of Gilbert and Sullivan?"

"As familiar as you are with the works of Edgar Allan Poe, my dear," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.

She grinned at him. "You just get better and better, Professor."

"It's Jonathan tonight, if you don't mind," he said, opening the car door for her. "Or…Johnny, if you prefer."

"I actually prefer Jonathan," she said, climbing in and greeting Lenore, who was perched on the steering wheel. "Johnny sounds like the dumb, handsome character in a teenage soap opera. Jonathan sounds much more sophisticated. And I do like a sophisticated man," she said, grinning at him.

"Would you mind doing me a favor before we head to the Iceberg Lounge?" asked Crane as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"What?" she asked.

"Would you mind pinching me?" he asked. "Because I'm fairly convinced I must be dreaming."

Emilia grinned. "Lenore, why don't you convince him he's not dreaming?" she asked the raven.

She squawked, flapping onto Crane's shoulder and digging her claws in. "All right, I'm convinced!" he hissed.

"You asked for it," she retorted. She rubbed her eye, which had begun to itch suddenly.

"Are you all right?" he asked, noticing.

"I think so," she said. "The makeup's just irritating me a little…just not used to it, I guess. But I won't let it spoil our evening."

"You can go wash it off…" he began.

"Maybe at the Iceberg Lounge," she agreed. "But let's get going – I'm hungry."

Crane nodded, starting the engine and backing the car out into the streets of Gotham. Emilia tried to ignore the itch, hoping nothing else could go wrong to spoil this wonderful evening she had really been looking forward to.

Her hopes were about to be disappointed.


	7. Chapter 7

"Jonathan, how good to see you, old friend!" exclaimed Oswald Cobblepot at the entrance to the Iceberg Lounge. "And who is your charming companion?"

"This is Miss Emilia Lee, Oswald," said Crane. "Who has done me the very great honor of accompanying me to dinner this evening."

"Charmed, my dear," said Cobblepot, bowing and kissing Emilia's hand. "And how is dear Lenore this evening?" he cooed, petting Lenore who perched on Crane's shoulder. "Professor Crane is indeed a fortunate man to have two such beautiful females accompanying him. Right this way and I'll show you to your table," he said, beckoning them inside.

Crane entered and froze suddenly in the doorway. "Oh God, no!" he gasped, staring in horror inside the Iceberg Lounge. "We have to go, quickly," he said, turning to usher Emilia away. "We have to get out of here right now…"

"Johnny!" shouted a familiar voice, as the Joker stood up and waved from the table where he, Harley, and their two children sat in highchairs.

"Too late," Crane muttered to himself.

"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny!" said Joker, beaming as he and his family came over to their table. "I never thought I'd see the day when you were out with a woman! Guess that's kinda the reverse of outing yourself, huh? Inning yourself?" he laughed. "Unless this is just all to make Hatty jealous, of course, and the woman's not your date…"

"Of course she's my date!" snapped Crane. "Joker, Harley, this is Emilia Lee. Emilia, the Joker and Harley Quinn."

"It's very nice to meet you," said Emilia.

"Aw, that's so cute!" exclaimed Harley, smiling at Crane. "I'm so glad you've finally found yourself a nice girl, Johnny! You deserve one! And about time too, huh?"

"Yes, quite," agreed Crane. "Lovely to see you both, now go away."

"Now that's no way to be!" exclaimed Joker, smiling. "We should get to know your date to make sure we approve – no way I'm gonna let my pal Johnny date a gal who's unworthy of him, ain't that right, pooh?" he asked Harley.

"You're such a sweet, selfless, thoughtful guy, puddin'!" sighed Harley, as Joker pulled up two chairs to Crane's table. Harley sat down with the twins squirming in her embrace. "Always looking out for our friends!"

Crane glared at Joker, trying to control his temper. "Actually, I'd prefer it if you didn't crash our date…"

"Don't be silly – she don't mind. Do you, sweetheart?" asked Joker, turning to Emilia.

"It's fine, Jonathan, really," said Emilia.

"No, it isn't," growled Crane. The twins suddenly began crying, which did nothing to alleviate his annoyance.

"Aw, they're hungry," cooed Harley, rocking them gently in her arms. "Feeding time, huh, babies? You want some of Mommy's yummy milk?"

"I thought they were…eating solid food now," stammered Crane, as Harley casually began pulling her top down and exposing her breasts.

"They're only partially weaned - they like candy, but they also like boobies!" laughed Joker. "Take after their Daddy!"

"Puddin', don't be a bad boy!" giggled Harley, as she put the twins to her breasts. They latched on, sucking noisily.

"You got a problem with a woman breastfeeding her babies in public?" asked Joker, noticing Crane's uncomfortable expression.

"No," retorted Crane, holding up his hand and averting his eyes away from the awkward sight. "I just…don't see why it has to happen on my date."

"So what is it you do, sweetheart?" asked Joker of Emilia. "Haven't seen you at the supercriminal gatherings."

"No, I'm a librarian," said Emilia.

"Librarian, eh?" said Joker, thoughtfully. "Not sure I'd do a librarian. They ain't traditionally exciting lovers. Shrinks on the other hand…" he chuckled, smiling at Harley.

"Puddin', stop!" she giggled. "You're in such a naughty mood tonight!"

"Yes, I am," agreed Joker, grinning. "And I bet Johnny is too, am I right? Think you're gonna get lucky tonight?"

"I have no intention of getting lucky tonight!" snapped Crane. "It's the furthest thought from my mind, actually! Not that I don't find you attractive, my dear," Crane added, hastily. "Or that I wouldn't be open to the idea…somewhere along the line…if you wanted to, of course…not that I'm expecting…can we get some wine over here, please?" he called, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah, drinking will help with the nervousness your first time," said Joker, nodding. "What about you, sweetheart? If it's your first time, I think you can probably do better than Johnny. Especially since I think he's probably just sham dating you to make his boyfriend jealous…"

"Joker, for the last time…" began Crane.

"Are you ok, Emilia?" asked Harley, who had managed to tear her eyes away from her babies and saw Emilia rubbing her eye.

"Yes, just a little…irritated by the mascara, I think," said Emilia.

"You might be allergic," said Harley. "I'm allergic to the glue on those fake eyelashes, which I only wore once, and my eyes looked like that for weeks afterward. Really, really red and swollen…"

"Yeah, people thought I hit her!" chuckled Joker. "Which I do, but it was worse than one of my shiners!"

"I'm going to go wash it off in the bathroom – excuse me," said Emilia, standing up.

"Joker, I want you to leave right now!" snapped Crane as Emilia headed for the bathroom. "I will not let you ruin my only chance at happiness by offending and scaring away the girl I'm interested in!"

"All right, take it easy, Johnny," said Joker. "I was just messing with ya. Need to make sure the gal's got a sense of humor, don't I? That's my job!"

"I think she's really sweet, Johnny," said Harley, sincerely. "Pretty too."

"Yeah, if you like the nerd with glasses look!" chuckled Joker.

"I wore glasses like that when you met me!" snapped Harley.

"Yeah, so obviously I liked the nerd with glasses look," retorted Joker, shrugging.

Harley beamed, leaning over to kiss him. "I think it's all off now," said Emilia, returning and taking her seat. "Although my eyes still itch."

"Allergies, like I said," said Harley, nodding. "I was a doctor, y'know."

"You were a shrink," retorted Joker.

"I went to medical school!" she snapped.

"You're probably right – I'll just hope this is as bad as it gets," said Emilia. "I don't want dinner to be spoiled…"

"Too late for that," said Crane, pointedly, glaring at Joker and Harley.

Joker grinned, standing up. "Fine, I can take a hint. If the babies are full, cover the funbags up and let's go, Harl," he said.

Harley handed the twins to Joker as she pulled her top back up. "And don't pretend you didn't enjoy that – wasn't that long ago you would have killed to see Harley topless," said Joker, smiling at Crane.

"Thank you, Joker, goodbye!" snapped Crane.

The final, parting humiliation came from J.J., who had had a bit too much milk, and suddenly vomited from his father's arms onto Crane's shirt. "Good shot, J.J.!" cooed Joker, holding him up and Eskimo kissing him as J.J. giggled. "Who's my little comedy genius? It's just like the end of the Mr. Creosote sketch in _Monty Python's The Meaning of Life_!" he chuckled. "And with that pleasant image, enjoy the rest of your date!"

"I'd prefer the pleasant image of ritually disemboweling him piece by piece," growled Crane, wiping up the vomit from his shirt.

"Is that the woman you were talking about, who you were in love with but picked somebody else?" asked Emilia, nodding after Harley. "I assume that's what he meant by you wanting to see her topless."

"Yes," snapped Crane. "But that's all in the past now. She's moved on with her life, as you see, and I've moved on with mine."

Emilia nodded, rubbing her eyes again. "Oh God, are you crying?" asked Crane, noticing tears. "I swear to you, my dear, I'm not still in love with her…"

"I'm not crying," retorted Emilia. "My eyes are just watering from that damn mascara. I trust you, Jonathan. And I'm not the jealous type anyway. I think far too little of myself to be paranoid that a man who was with me would want anyone else. I assume if he's with me, he's given up and realized he has to settle."

"That's a terrible thing to say," retorted Crane. "I'm not settling for you. If anything, you're settling for me. You're still very young, and very attractive…"

"Well, I think you're very attractive," she said. "So I guess neither of us is settling."

They smiled at each other as the food arrived. Lenore fluttered down from Crane's shoulder, dipping eagerly into the plate of seeds that Penguin had sent over for her. Emilia took a few bites from her meal, trying to ignore the itching in her eyes. It didn't work.

"Excuse me again," she said, heading for the bathroom and trying to awkwardly douse her swollen eyes with water from the sink, which mostly just resulted in her getting water all over her hair and dress, and very little in her eyes.

"We should get you some allergy medication on the drive home," said Crane as she sat back down.

"Yes, that would be lovely," she said. "Most dates end with a kiss – mine ends with allergy medication. Hopefully we'll laugh about this on our second date."

"You've determined you'd like one, then?" asked Crane.

"Yes," she replied. "Although perhaps someplace where you don't have friends next time."

"The Joker is no friend of mine," snapped Crane.

"He's taller than I thought he'd be," said Emilia. "And his kids are cute."

"You like children?" asked Crane.

Emilia nodded. "Odd from someone who was bullied by children, I know. But I've always wanted kids so I can teach them what not to do to other children. Do you like children?"

"Not the Joker's children," retorted Crane, wiping his shirt again. "But I've always wanted children of my own, for similar reasons. And, even if they are bullied, so that they can come home to me, and I can comfort them, and tell them I love them, and that they mustn't listen to what the other children say, because they're perfect just the way they are…which my parents never did to me, of course."

"I'm sorry," said Emilia. "But I think you'd make a wonderful father."

Crane smiled at her. "You don't think we should wait a few dates before discussing this?"

"I don't see why – it's best to know from the outset if two people in a relationship are incompatible because of dissimilar life goals," retorted Emilia. "But now we know we aren't."

"Are…we in a relationship?" asked Crane, slowly.

"I assume so," said Emilia, shrugging. "Don't you want to give it that label?"

"Oh yes," he said, hastily. "I just never thought…I would ever be in a relationship. It's an odd thing to consider."

"Well, nor did I," agreed Emilia. "And yet, here we are."

She raised her glass to him, taking a sip of wine, and then put it down again. "Excuse me – my eye again," she said, standing up.

They left the Iceberg Lounge the moment they finished dinner, which they hurried through to get to a drugstore to find Emilia some allergy medicine. It relieved the itchiness slightly, but the swelling was still there as Crane climbed the stairs to her apartment with her, having left Lenore in the car. Emilia's vision had been impaired by the swelling, so he had to help her up the steps, holding her hand.

"Well, this was hardly the perfect date I imagined," she said when they reached her door.

"No," he agreed. "But permit me to say that…even like this…you look incredibly beautiful."

"I can't see if you're lying or not," she retorted. "But then I can't see much of anything."

"I'm not lying," he said.

She smiled. "Well, thank you."

"Not at all. Thank you for accompanying me to dinner," he said.

"I couldn't very well have refused you, after seeing how much courage it took for you to ask me out," she said. "Plus I didn't want to – you're very cute when you're nervous."

"Then I must be very cute now," he said.

"I can't see anything, like I said," she retorted.

They were silent, and Emilia cleared her throat. "Well…thank you for paying."

"My pleasure."

"I'd like to pay for our next meal together."

"If you insist."

There was silence again, and Emilia sighed. "Look, I can't see very well, and I can't stay out here all night. Are you going to kiss me or not?"

"I…would like to, but…it's not the kind of thing one just…does, is it?" he stammered.

"Well, you'd better hurry up about it, or I'm going inside," retorted Emilia. "I need to rest my eyes as soon as poss…"

His mouth interrupted her, kissing her tenderly but firmly. Emilia had never been kissed before, but she liked it – the feel of his soft, gentle lips pressed against hers, softly searching and exploring as her mouth yielded to his tender caresses. She gasped a little in shock at the sensation of her blood pounding through her heart, his kiss flooding her body with new and incredible feelings. She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into her and not letting him draw away.

They drew apart at last, breathing gently. "Goodnight," he whispered.

"Goodnight," she said.

An irresistible force drew them together again, and they shared another kiss before parting. Emilia entered her apartment, and Crane headed back to his car. Lenore cawed at him as the door opened.

"Yes, I did kiss her!" snapped Crane. "Are you happy now?"

Lenore nodded, cooing approvingly. "I bet you thought I would be too scared to, but I did," he continued. "I kissed her. And she kissed me, and then we kissed again…"

He smiled. "It was truly, despite everything, the best night of my life," he whispered. He started the engine, backing the car out with a grin and muttering triumphantly, "So take that, Joker."


	8. Chapter 8

The next evening, Crane and Emilia met in the library again. "How's your eye?" he asked, standing up as she entered.

"Better than it was," she replied. "Although reading is still impossible, but at least I can see where I'm going now."

"I'm glad," he said.

"Well, not being able to read, even temporarily, is almost a fate worse than death," said Emilia. "I'm never letting Brittany, or anyone, talk me into wearing makeup ever again."

"You don't need it," he agreed. "You're naturally stunning."

She smiled. "Aren't you going to kiss me?" she asked.

"I didn't know if it would be an appropriate way to greet you," said Crane.

Lenore squawked, pecking him slightly on his cheek. "Lenore clearly thinks it is," retorted Emilia, smiling.

"She is going to stop being brought along if she doesn't stop being so bossy," retorted Crane.

Lenore cawed irritably at him, fluttering down onto the table next to Emilia. "Don't worry – I won't let him leave you behind," said Emilia, petting her gently.

Lenore cooed happily, and then nudged Emilia forward with her beak. "I'm afraid she's going to insist," said Emilia, smiling at Crane.

"I've been bullied my whole life, and I won't be bullied by you, my pet," retorted Crane, glaring at Lenore. "I will kiss my…girlfriend when _I _want to, not when _you_ want me to. Fortunately, I want to kiss her all the time, so our desires happily coincide," he murmured, kissing Emilia gently.

"Mmm, and my boyfriend can kiss me whenever he likes," murmured Emilia. "He's very good at it."

"It's such a bizarre phrase to say," he murmured, cupping her face. "My girlfriend. And such a wonderful, incredible privilege, that I can kiss her whenever I like…"

"I would say saying my boyfriend was strange, but I've actually been saying it for six months," retorted Emilia. "Brittany sends her regards to Marmaduke, by the way," she added, grinning.

"I'm not changing my name to that, not even for you," he retorted.

"I see how little you really care for me," she said, grinning. "You won't even suffer a silly name to make me happy."

He stared at her. "Are you seriously asking me to…"

"No!" she giggled. "I think it would be hard to keep a straight face when saying 'I love you, Marmaduke!' But I could most certainly keep a straight face when saying 'I love you, Jonathan.'" She grinned. "But I hope you will forgive me for beaming in joy as I say it. I love you, Jonathan."

"Oh, Emilia," he whispered, smiling at her. "I love you too. My beautiful girlfriend."

They kissed again, and Lenore nodded approvingly, cooing in happiness.

"Now we must decide where to go for our second date," said Emilia, taking a seat next to him as they held hands.

"Why don't you come over to mine and let me cook for you?" he asked. "I'm a fairly decent cook. And you can meet Jervis. He's much, much nicer than the Joker, and he's been my best friend through many trials."

"I'd love to meet him," said Emilia, sincerely. "And if you can promise me there'll be no clowns there, that sounds ideal."

"No clowns, I promise," said Crane.

"Tomorrow night? Or is that too soon for you?" she asked.

"My dear, it cannot come soon enough," he murmured, kissing her. "Now why don't you let me read to you, since you're incapable of it at the moment?"

"That would be very kind," she said, handing him her book.

"What are boyfriends for?" he asked, smiling at her. She smiled back, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I'm afraid you'll find me a little bony and uncomfortable to lean against…" he began.

"Stop insulting yourself and just start reading," she interrupted. "I don't want to hear another self-deprecating remark out of you, Jonathan Crane. To me, you are perfect. And you mustn't insult my taste by putting yourself down."

He smiled, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it gently. "What's that?" he asked, noticing marks on her wrist from where her sleeve had rolled up.

"It's nothing," said Emilia, hastily, pulling her sleeve down. "Nothing at all."

"Let me see?" he asked, gently.

She looked back at him, and then nodded slowly, carefully pulling up her sleeves to reveal her bare, scarred arms. She held them out to him. "When…I was a teenager, my parents' death, and the bullying and insults all became…very hard to take," she stammered. "I…I kept wanting to make myself as ugly as they said I was and the pain…the pain was a strange release of my inner pain. It helped alleviate it somewhat, giving myself a punishment I thought I deserved. I felt…helpless in the wake of my parents death, and this gave me some small control over something. My body and my pain."

He stared at her scarred arms, not saying a word. He then carefully raised one to his lips and planted gentle kisses down the length of it. "Your suffering does not make you any less beautiful," he whispered, kissing up the other one. "You must never hide it away. You must never be ashamed of it, when you did nothing to deserve it. And you must never hide your pain from me again. The whole world deserves to see your strength, and your courage. They deserve to see what you have endured, and what could never break you. Your imperfections make you the most perfect, glorious woman I have ever seen in my life."

Emilia felt tears trailing down her cheeks. "You don't have to prompt me, Lenore," she whispered, as she leaned forward and kissed Crane passionately.

"I always used to catch people making out in the library, and chastise them," she murmured, smiling. "But I can quite understand the appeal now."

"Mmm, it is a rather illicit idea, surrounded by the greatest minds and thinkers and words ever written," he murmured. "Not to mention the dust of centuries…"

"Where?" demanded Emilia, breaking away suddenly.

"The…metaphorical dust of centuries," stammered Crane, staring at the horror on her face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, forgive me, I just have…a little phobia of…dust," she stammered.

He stared at her. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yes," she retorted, defensively. "Do you know what dust is mostly made up of? Dead human skin cells. It's disgusting stuff."

"How do you work in a library if you're afraid of dust?" he asked.

"You'll find no dust in my library," retorted Emilia. "I keep the books in excellent condition. I come in early every morning to make sure they're clean…"

Crane laughed. "Are you mocking my phobia?" demanded Emilia.

"Not at all," he said. "I think it's the most adorable thing I've ever heard. My beautiful girlfriend, terrified by dust."

"You _are_ mocking me!" snapped Emilia.

"I would never mock a fear, my dear," retorted Crane. "Rational or irrational. I have the greatest of respect for that emotion, as you know."

She was silent. "Jonathan?" she murmured, cuddling up against his shoulder again.

"Hmm?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.

"Are you going to…keep committing crimes?" she asked, slowly.

He stroked her hair gently. "I don't know, my dear," he murmured. "But I do know that when you're with me, the pain and rage and shame and humiliation I have felt for years, and the fear…it all just goes away. And I have no desire to hurt anyone."

She smiled, kissing him tenderly. "I'm glad," she whispered.

"Now let's get back to your book," he said, as Lenore fluttered over to perch on his shoulder as Emilia leaned against his other one. "And the tale of the Headless Horseman…"


	9. Chapter 9

"Have I told you about Emilia's phobia? I have, haven't I?" asked Crane, as Tetch stood chopping vegetables with him in the kitchen.

"Only about a hundred times," agreed Tetch.

"But isn't it simply the most adorable phobia you've ever heard in your life?" sighed Crane.

"Mostly it just makes me anxious about my housekeeping," replied Tetch.

"I dusted very carefully, don't worry," said Crane. "There's not a speck of it in here. Lenore even searched from above, didn't you, my precious?" he asked.

Lenore cawed, watching the cooking with a careful eye. Her master was very absent-minded recently, but that was only natural when a man was in love.

"I must say, it's wonderful to see you so happy and cheerful," commented Tetch. "Unusual, but wonderful."

"Oh, how could I not be happy and cheerful, when I have the most wonderful woman in the world as my girlfriend?" asked Crane. "You'll agree when you meet her tonight – she's simply pure and utter perfection."

"And to think you weren't going to ask her on a date," said Tetch, lightly.

"Yes, thank you, Jervis," retorted Crane. "I'm very glad I listened to you."

"Well, you shouldn't be the only one who's allowed to gloat," replied Tetch with a smile. "I must say, I'm pleased you want me around tonight, although I honestly wouldn't mind clearing out if the two of you wanted some private time alone."

"Nonsense – I'm not going to ask you to vacate your own home, which I'm already imposing upon by staying with you, and then inviting company round," retorted Crane. "Besides, she very much wants to meet you."

"Well, I'm flattered, and of course I very much want to meet her," replied Tetch. "Still, I could understand if you wanted some space with just the two of you."

"Don't worry – Lenore's been our perpetual third wheel since we met," retorted Crane, nodding at the raven. She cawed irritably at him. "Yes, I know – you were only trying to help get us together," said Crane, petting her gently. "I am a lucky man to be surrounded by such excellent companions."

"I have never heard you describe yourself as a lucky man before," said Tetch.

"I am, though – it is an irrefutable fact," retorted Crane.

"So all those years I told you to be optimistic, and that love would find you, and that you mustn't give up hope, I was right, wasn't I?" asked Tetch, lightly.

"Are you going to be gloating all night?" demanded Crane.

"It's one of the few pleasures left to me," replied Tetch with a grin. "You mustn't deprive me of it."

"Emilia and I will not be too over-affectionate, I promise, Jervis," said Crane. "I know how annoying it can be when happy couples rub their relationship in your face…"

"Nonsense, Jonathan – I'm happy to see you happy," replied Tetch, sincerely. "I wouldn't be very much of a friend if I wasn't. I may not have a romantic relationship, but I actually have very little desire for one. I am truly happy with my life, surprising as it may be to you. My love for Alice was…not a physical desire or the need for bodily intimacy, but rather the need to feel emotionally irreplaceable to another human being. I have that in her child. And really that's all I've ever wanted. I do not feel that my life is lacking. On the contrary, I find it full beyond my wildest dreams."

"I feel that too," said Crane, nodding. He paused in his chopping. "Although I'm afraid I'm not quite familiar with…the modern custom for such things…"

"What things?" asked Tetch.

"Bodily intimacy," replied Crane. "If it were up to me, I'd propose to marry Emilia tonight as I'd be more than happy to take our relationship to the next level in that way. But I'm not sure if there are modern levels in between dating and marriage that I should be considering, such as physical relations."

"Before marriage?" asked Tetch, incredulously. "Do people do such things?"

"Joker and Harley do," replied Crane. "They've had children before marriage. And Ivy and Two-Face do…"

"Do you have any non-criminal lunatic examples?" asked Tetch.

Crane shrugged. "One picks things up from popular culture occasionally. And Emilia is of a younger generation…what if she expects us to…be intimate before she considers marriage? To test our physical compatibility?"

"You could always ask her," said Tetch. "Although if I were a woman, and you asked me that question, I'd slap you hard across the face for such impertinence. Suggesting taking a woman to bed before marriage indeed! What is the world coming to?" he sighed.

"Perhaps I'll bring it up later," said Crane. "Although I'd hate for her to think that I was in any way rushing things, or just eager to have her body superficially. I'm just unsure as to what the next step in our relationship should be, as I've never been in one before. I'd like to prove my love for her completely, but rushing into a proposal might scare her off. I understand that such deep commitment after a short time sometimes comes off as desperate and clingy."

"What sorts of popular culture are you watching?" asked Tetch, raising an eyebrow.

"Some of the Arkham gang used to watch soap operas in the Rec Room," replied Crane. "Bits of them sunk in, despite how I tried to tune them out."

"I hardly think such cheap entertainment is a guide for life," replied Tetch. "It is fictional, after all."

The doorbell rang. "Says the man who bases his life off of Lewis Carroll's novels," said Crane, dryly, as he headed for the door. "Personally I have often found fiction a fine guide to life, and so have you."

"Yes, but one must be selective, Jonathan," retorted Tetch. "There is a difference between wholesome literature and mindless trash."

"Not really – in your case they're both nonsense," replied Crane. He opened the door and beamed at Emilia. "Hello, my angel," he said, kissing her.

"No prompting from Lenore this time – well done," said Emilia, smiling at him.

"She doesn't control me, you know," retorted Crane. "Let me take your coat. You look absolutely stunning, my darling," he said, helping her off with her coat to reveal the short sleeve dress she was wearing.

"Thank you," she said, smiling. "I'm afraid the eye is still a bit swollen, but nothing can be done about that. Brittany suggested putting makeup on to hide the swelling, but I reminded her it was that which had got me into this trouble in the first place. A lesson in vanity, I suppose."

"A woman as gorgeous as you should never hide your beauty away under layers of makeup anyway," replied Crane. "Don't you agree, Jervis?" he asked, as Tetch emerged from the kitchen.

"I most certainly do, my dear," said Tetch, taking her hand and kissing it. "It is such a pleasure to meet you – Jonathan has talked of nothing else for days."

"In that case, you must be thoroughly sick of me by now," replied Emilia. "I do hope he didn't bore you."

"Not at all, my dear, you are a very engaging young woman, even by reputation," replied Tetch. "And even more so in the flesh. Jonathan is a very lucky man, if you'll permit me to say so."

"I'm the lucky one," said Emilia. "I have swollen eyes and he still thinks I'm the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Facts are unalterable, my dear," replied Crane, kissing her cheek.

"Well, do sit down – dinner's almost ready," said Tetch, as he returned to the kitchen.

"I hope you haven't gone through too much trouble on my account," said Emilia, as Crane escorted her to the table.

"That would be impossible, my dear – no trouble could be too much on your account," said Crane, pulling out her chair for her. Lenore fluttered out from the kitchen and landed on Emilia's shoulder, nuzzling her gently.

"Hello, Lenore," said Emilia. "I hope you don't mind me temporarily intruding on your home."

"Of course she doesn't," said Crane. "Later you must come see her perch in my bedroom. I think you'll like it. It's a literary joke."

"The day I don't appreciate a literary joke is the day I die," replied Emilia with a smile. "But my parents also warned me not to go into strange men's bedrooms."

Crane stared at her. "That's a joke," retorted Emilia. "You're hardly a strange man, are you, Jonathan? Not in the sense that I don't know you, at least, but more in the definition of strange as unique or unusual. Which you most certainly are, and I love you for it," she added, kissing him.

"Yes…surely there'd be nothing wrong in being in your boyfriend's bedroom, anyhow," said Crane, slowly.

"Well, certainly not if he just wanted to show me Lenore's perch, and not anything else," replied Emilia, with a smile.

"Would you be uncomfortable with anything else?" he asked.

"Why, are you suggesting we do something else?" asked Emilia. "Because I hear that's traditionally the third date anyway."

Her tone was light, but Crane genuinely couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. "Would…would you consider…something like that…on the third date?" he stammered.

"Are you expecting me to?" asked Emilia.

"Um…no, but…I'm just not sure what you're expecting," said Crane. "And I don't want to disappoint any expectations you might have…"

"Let's just focus on the second date now, Jonathan," interrupted Emilia, as Tetch emerged from the kitchen with the food. "And discuss things like that later."

Emilia chatted amiably throughout dinner, and Crane put such thoughts out of his mind, but he was sincerely worried about broaching the subject of physical relations with Emilia again. She'd certainly be justified in slapping him, and he didn't want her to think the worst of him, or that he was just eager to use her. He decided there was only one thing for it.

After dinner, Crane took Emilia to his room to show her Lenore's perch. "A bust of Pallas, how ingenious!" laughed Emilia, as Lenore fluttered onto it, cooing proudly. "And this must be the lovely first edition Jervis got you," she said, nodding at the book by his bed. "He's such a sweetheart. May I?"

"Yes, please do," he said. She took a seat on the bed, picking up the book and carefully perusing it. Crane cleared his throat.

"Um…Emilia, my love, I have…a question I'd like to ask you."

"Of course," she said, looking up at him. "Anything."

"Would you…that is…would you consider…um…would you…ever consider…doing me the indescribable honor…of becoming my wife?" he asked, kneeling down and withdrawing a ring from his pocket.

She stared at him, stunned. "Jonathan…we've only been on two dates."

"I know, but…I know what I know," he stammered. "I know that I love you, and I never want to be parted from you. And I don't want our relationship to advance…in any kind of physical way, which traditionally it does on the third date, without you having the promise of some kind of commitment on my part. I want to marry you, Emilia. And if you don't want to be married right away, that's fine. But if you'll consider it, at some point in the future, it would put my mind at ease that I'm not just taking advantage of a young lady, and that she has my promise to wed her in payment of her honor. If indeed she sees fit to give that to me, which of course she is under no obligation to, I don't want to pressure…"

He was babbling now, and Emilia gently put her hand to his lips. "Jonathan, I love you so much," she whispered. "And I would very happily…advance our relationship in a physical way, when the time feels right, without the promise of marriage. You don't have to do this."

"I want to do it," he whispered. "I want you to be my wife. I have never felt as happy as you have made me, and the thought of losing you would be more than I could bear. To the end of my days I want your smile and your company and your beauty by my side. I know if you could do me that honor, despite everything, despite the bullying and the fear and the terror…I would always think of myself as the luckiest man who ever lived."

Emilia smiled at him. "I will marry you, Jonathan," she whispered. "On one condition."

"Anything, my angel – name it and it is done," said Crane.

"I want to meet your parents," she said.

Crane stared at her in horror. "But…but why, my dear?" he stammered. "I never want to see them again…"

"Because I want you to face them, as a strong, happy, intelligent man who's engaged to be married," she murmured. "I want you to take the first step and forgive them for what they may or may not have done in your childhood. And because when I marry you, they will be the only set of parents I have."

"They are unworthy replacements for yours, I assure you…" began Crane.

"Do this for me, Jonathan," she murmured. "I know you can."

He nodded slowly. "I will, of course. But on your head be it. Just remember when you meet them that you asked for this. And allow me to gloat when the whole thing ends in failure, which of course it will."

"You're lucky I despise optimism in a man," murmured Emilia, kissing him gently.

"It might take me a while to find them – we have not been in contact," said Crane.

"That's fine," she said. "It only has to be before our wedding, which I assume we'll need some time to plan. In the meantime, I want to enjoy my third date with my fiance," she said, grinning at him. "Will you let me take charge on this one?"

"My darling, I am in your hands," he said, sincerely. "And speaking of hands…"

He slid the ring onto her finger. "It may need to be adjusted a little…I wasn't sure of your ring size…"

"It's beautiful," she interrupted. "Thank you so much, Jonathan. I can't wait to go home and tell Brittany."

"She might think it's a little sudden…" began Crane.

"Nonsense – we've been dating for six months," retorted Emilia, smiling. "That's plenty of time."

She stood up, taking his hand, and they walked together out into the kitchen, where Tetch had insisted on doing the dishes.

"Jervis, we have some news," said Crane.

"Good news?" asked Tetch, turning to face them.

"We think so," agreed Crane, nodding and smiling at Emilia. "Emilia has done me the inestimable honor of agreeing to become my wife."

Tetch stared at them, stunned. And then he beamed. "Oh, frabjous day, callooh, callay!" he cried, dropping the dish he had been washing into the soapy water and sending suds everywhere, and then pouncing on Crane in a bone-crushing embrace. "Congratulations, my dearest friend! Two people could not be more suited for each other – you will enrich each other's lives beyond measure!"

He hugged Emilia tightly. "You have brought us both such joy, my dear," he said. "Seeing my friend Jonathan as happy as he has been with you around is the most incredible thing since the birth of my goddaughter. You will have the most wonderful of husbands, and he will have the most wonderful of wives! A match made in heaven! When will the wedding be?"

"We haven't worked out all the details," said Emilia, smiling at Crane. "But soon, I hope. Just a few things to do before we can be married."

"If you need any help with it, please do let me know," said Tetch. "I am at your service. Oh, I couldn't be any happier for you both!"

"Just keep it to yourself for now," said Crane. "We don't want people at large to know about it yet. Especially not a certain clown person, who would probably do his best to spoil it."

"Mum's the word, I assure you," said Tetch, tapping his nose. "But this is quite, quite wonderful! Do allow me to go find some champagne quickly so we can have a toast to the future Mr. and Mrs. Crane!"

"Mrs. Emilia Crane," said Emilia, smiling at him. "I do love the sound of that."

"So do I, my dear," agreed Crane, kissing her tenderly. "So do I."


	10. Chapter 10

"So where are we going for our third date, my dear?" asked Crane, as he picked up Emilia in his car. "And why didn't you want Lenore accompanying us? She was most distressed at being left behind."

"I am sorry about that, but the place we're going might not allow pets," said Emilia. "Do give her some treats as an apology, won't you?"

"Of course I will," said Crane, nodding. "And she won't stay angry for long. She prefers you to me these days – you could do anything and she'd probably forgive you. But I always seem to be on the receiving end of her wrath now."

"Good practice for marriage, where the woman is always right," retorted Emilia, kissing his cheek. "I'm looking forward to always winning arguments, I must say."

"That's the only thing you're looking forward to about our marriage, is it?" asked Crane.

"That and everything else," agreed Emilia.

He leaned over and kissed her tenderly. "So where to, my love?" he asked, starting the car.

"The Gotham Hilton," said Emilia. "There's a restaurant there."

"Yes, and it's extremely expensive," said Crane.

"You let me worry about that – I'm paying, remember?" she asked.

"I would feel guilty letting you pay for…"

"Jonathan, the woman is always right," interrupted Emilia. "Start getting used to it now. I'm paying for dinner at the Gotham Hilton, and I won't hear any arguments. The reservation has already been made, and they're waiting for us. So just drive us there now."

"You're incredibly bossy sometimes, my dear," muttered Crane. "I wish I'd known that before I proposed to you."

"Would it have changed your mind?" she asked.

"No," he retorted. "But clearly I need to start practicing saying 'yes, dear.'"

"Do it now," she said, grinning. "Drive us to the Gotham Hilton please, Jonathan."

"Yes, dear," he sighed.

She laughed, and they shared another kiss. "I love you," she whispered.

"And I you, my angel," he whispered. "Beyond reason."

When they arrived at the Hilton, the maitre d seated them and handed them the menus. Crane took one look at the prices and was about to object again, but Emilia silenced him with a look. "How's the hunt for your parents coming?" she asked after they had their orders taken.

"They're both alive, unfortunately," retorted Crane. "I searched through the lists of obituaries first, hoping to find them there and save myself the hassle."

"Jonathan, please don't say things like that," said Emilia, sincerely. "You know it upsets me."

"I am sorry, my love," he said, kissing her hand. "That was very callous of your feelings, when I know you would do anything in the world to have your parents alive again. But you'll see when you meet them that perhaps those feelings are not unjustified…"

"I just can't believe that anyone could be so heartless toward their own child as you describe your parents to be," said Emilia. "Surely they must have had reasons, however much you couldn't understand them as a child…"

"Their reasons were that they didn't love me," interrupted Crane. "Not as a parent should naturally love their child. I believe they were both hoping for their son to be some kind of leader of men, someone to do them credit, a person they could live vicariously through, who would make a success of his life the way they had failed theirs, and thus grant them purpose and immortality. I disappointed them on every score, and so they resented me for that. They felt I had an obligation to do them proud – that was the payment they expected for feeding and clothing and raising me. Not the natural duty of a parent to a child, but more like a business deal which I had not held up my end of…"

He trailed off. "Maybe they'll have changed," said Emilia. "Seen the error of their ways. People do, as they get older."

"And sometimes they just get more set in their ways," retorted Crane. "But I will keep my promise to you, my dear. We will meet them. And then I think you will understand, perhaps more than you already do, why life was always so difficult for me."

Their food arrived, and Crane changed the subject to a happier one – preparations for their wedding. If Crane could locate his parents before then, they were aiming for next month. Neither of them wanted a church wedding, not being particularly religious people, so they agreed on a small civil ceremony in front of a justice of the peace, with probably just Tetch and Brittany in attendance, as best man and maid of honor, respectively, and Lenore as the ring bearer, of course.

This took them through to dessert, and then Emilia asked for the bill and paid, despite Crane's pleadings that they at least split it. Then they headed back out into the hotel lobby. Crane started toward the door, but Emilia approached the desk.

"Hello, I've booked a reservation in the suite for Mr. and Mrs. Crane?" she said to the receptionist.

"Of course, madam," she said, typing in the name. "Let me just get your key."

"Emilia, my dear, what's going on?" asked Crane, puzzled.

She didn't respond, but the receptionist handed her a keycard. "Top floor, room number 1849. Congratulations, and enjoy your honeymoon," she said with a smile.

"Thank you," said Emilia. "Come along, darling," she said, taking Crane's hand and leading him toward the elevator.

"But…but my darling, it's not our honeymoon…" he began.

"I know, Jonathan," retorted Emilia. "I just thought…it being our third date…maybe we'd like to spend the night in a nice hotel room together, away from roommates and people like that, and just…enjoy each other's company."

Crane felt himself blushing. "You…you mean you want us…to…to…tonight?"

"Unless you don't want to," she said.

"No, no, no, I do," he said, hastily. "I do, I just…don't want you to seem pressured just because it's traditional."

"I don't feel pressured," she said, squeezing his hand. "I want this."

He smiled at her as they rode up in the elevator. "Do you…um…know…how to do it?" stammered Emilia at last.

"I know the general concept and theory, of course," retorted Crane. "But I have no practical experience of it…"

"Nor have I," agreed Emilia. "Reading is all very well in terms of theory, but in terms of practice…"

She trailed off. "Perhaps…you can rent…adult films through the TV," said Crane. "I have heard about such things being available in hotels. We could maybe watch and learn…"

"That's a good idea," agreed Emilia.

"I've seen part of one once," said Crane. "Someone I know was in one."

"Really?" asked Emilia, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, a woman," agreed Crane. "Not a woman I know in the Biblical sense…" he added, hastily. "She's interested in Batman, so she'd have no interest in a man of my type, and I don't much care for her, actually…"

"You're cute when you're nervous, Jonathan," she interrupted, grinning.

"Aren't you nervous?" he asked her.

She nodded. "And scared. But mostly excited," she murmured, smiling at him. "It's just us, after all. We don't have anything to be afraid of."

They reached their room and unlocked the door, looking around at the beautiful, spacious suite. "My dear, this really must have cost you a fortune," said Crane. "You must allow me to pay for this at least…"

"You can pay for the adult movie," agreed Emilia.

He nodded, turning on the TV and finding the pay-per-view adult channels. "I suppose one just presses enter…" he stammered, over a title called _My Dark Knight Rises. _

Images appeared on the screen, which Emilia and Crane watched in open-mouthed horror for a few moments. "Well…I'm not doing that," stammered Emilia at last. "Or that. Or…"

"Yes, that's enough of that," said Crane, pressing the power button hastily. "Don't want to put ourselves off the idea. Perhaps it would be better to just…try to figure it out ourselves. Experiment with…what feels natural and comfortable."

"Yes, good idea," agreed Emilia. She cleared her throat. "Well…perhaps you should start by kissing me."

He obeyed, kissing her slowly and gently sliding his hands onto her body, touching her as delicately as if she were made of glass. She responded to the kisses, sliding her own hands up his chest and attempting to pull his jacket off. Crane reached around to try and undo the zipper on her dress.

"Mmm…it's a little difficult…to undress each other in this position," stammered Emilia. "Maybe it would be easier...if we both just undressed ourselves."

"Yes, probably," agreed Crane, drawing away. He pulled off his jacket and tie and then began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Emilia watched him, undoing the zipper on the back of her dress. She pulled her dress down, so that she was just in her stockings, underwear, and bra, while Crane pulled off his shirt. Emilia stared at him, her heart hammering, and her fingers slipping as she worked to unhook her bra.

"Are you all right?" asked Crane, gently, placing his hands on her bare shoulders and running them down her arms.

She nodded. "Slightly terrified to reveal myself to you," she whispered. "That's all. I've never thought of myself as very attractive, and I'm scared that…that I won't be…desirable to you."

He kissed her, drawing her close. "I love you," he whispered. "And I am the Master of Fear. You should never be afraid of me, my angel. Because I am afraid of nothing when I'm with you. You are the reason I have finally mastered true fear. Your beauty and your kindness and your spirit saved me from my deepest, darkest fear of being unloved and alone. Just trust me and don't be afraid. I could never, ever hurt you in any way, and I will always, always want you."

She nodded, and then took a deep breath, slipping her bra off her shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. She stared at him then and saw the look of desire in his eyes, the look of wanting her that she had always wanted to see, filling her with unimaginable joy. "Oh, Jonathan!" she gasped, before kissing him passionately. He returned it, pressing her down on the bed, neither of them afraid anymore.

Emilia lay in his arms later, smiling up at him. "Well, that was rather nice, wasn't it?" she sighed. "I can see why everyone speaks so highly of that."

"Yes, me too," agreed Crane, kissing her forehead. "And you're sure I didn't hurt you?"

"No, Jonathan, for the last time, there was some initial slight discomfort, but I think that's only natural when one is stretched in places one is not used to being stretched in by something rather large," retorted Emilia, grinning. "And it was worth it, don't you think?"

"I think that was worth almost anything," he replied, smiling at her. "The idea that we are at liberty to do that again, whenever we like, is utterly incredible. I had no idea that life could hold such new and amazing feelings, certainly not at my age."

"You're not that old," she retorted. "Clearly," she added, cuddling against him.

"Well, you make me feel younger than I've felt in quite some time," he murmured, kissing her.

"Clearly," she repeated, grinning. "Aren't you happy you let me plan the date now?"

"Mmm, I'll let you do it more often," he agreed, kissing her again. "Though I do wish you'd let me pay for dinner…"

"For God's sake, Jonathan!" she laughed, standing up and reaching for a robe. "You can't just accept a nice thing when it comes your way, can you?"

"I most certainly can!" he snapped. "I'll show you," he added, seizing her around the waist and pulling her down on the bed again. She giggled as he kissed her repeatedly, and then gently pushed him off.

"Just let me get a quick shower," she said. "Should give you some time to recover, though I can see it doesn't take you long," she added, grinning. She stood up and kissed him, and then headed into the bathroom.

Crane sat up, just enjoying the afterglow and blissfully considering how wonderful his life was. And how incredible it was that so many wonderful things had happened to him in such a short space of time. He had met the most perfect girl, dated her, asked her to marry him, which she had agreed to, and now they had made love for the first time, and it was even more amazing than he ever could have imagined. For the first time in his life, everything was going great.

He flicked on the TV while the shower ran, flipping over to the news channels. As was usual in Gotham City, they were running a story about Batman's latest act of heroism. Crane found his thoughts wandering – his battles with Batman seemed like ancient history now. The Scarecrow seemed like almost a stranger to him. He didn't need that persona now to shield himself from the world – the world had finally become a loving, warm, welcoming place. He no longer had any desire to hurt others, or to inflict fear and pain and suffering. A warm glow of happiness suffused his heart as he thought finally, just finally, he had moved on with his life.

"Jonathan?" said Emilia's voice. She had emerged from the bathroom in a towel, and Crane instantly flicked off the TV. "What are you watching?" she asked. "Not more of that adult film, I hope…"

"No, my darling – I was just seeing if there was anything interesting on the news," he said. "And thinking."

"About what?" she asked, approaching the bed.

"Just how amazing it is that one's life can change in an instant," he replied. "And how the things you used to depend on and were so certain of can be completely turned around. I never thought, with my life the way it was, that I could ever be as happy as I am right now."

"Well, neither did I," she agreed with a smile. "Especially not with a criminal lunatic," she added, dropping her towel and climbing into bed to cuddle him.

"I will be better, my dear, I promise," he murmured, stroking her hair. "From now on, the Scarecrow is no more."

She beamed. "I love you, Jonathan Crane," she whispered.

"And I love you, my beautiful Emilia Lee," he murmured, pressing her down on the pillows.

In that wonderful, perfect moment, he was so certain of keeping his promise to her. But the best intentions are what pave the road to hell, and the Scarecrow was not yet done with Jonathan Crane.


	11. Chapter 11

"Jonathan, I was worried when you didn't come home last night," said Tetch as Crane returned to their apartment the next morning. "And so was Lenore."

"I'm sorry, Jervis – I should have called," said Crane. "It was thoughtless of me. But I was rather…preoccupied last night."

"Ah," said Tetch. "Say no more. A gentleman wouldn't pry. But I hope you and Emilia had a lovely evening."

"We did," said Crane, smiling. "I think if either of us were worried about physical incompatibility…our fears are laid to rest now."

Lenore fluttered over to him, landing on his shoulder and squawking irritably. "It would have been awkward for you to have been there," retorted Crane. "Once we're married, we'll move your perch to your own room where you can surround yourself with seeds and insects and mice all the time, how about that?"

Lenore squawked again, but nuzzled him gently. "I am so very happy, my beauty," he murmured, petting her. "I feel like nothing will ever make me unhappy again."

The telephone rang at that moment, and Tetch went to answer it. "Ahoy hoy," he said. He listened for a few moments and then handed the receiver to Crane. "It's for you," he said.

"Oh. Hello?" said Crane, taking the phone from him.

"Jonathan?" asked a familiar and unpleasant voice. Crane's heart plummeted just from hearing it.

"Hello, Mother," he muttered.

"We got your message. What do you want?" demanded the voice.

"It's not what_ I_ want, Mother," snapped Crane. "I personally want nothing more from you, so don't worry about that. I'll not be a burden on you again. But my fiancee would like to be introduced to you both before our wedding, so I was hoping we could all meet somewhere, maybe for lunch or something."

There was silence on the other end. "What does he want?" called Crane's father.

"To meet us for lunch!" called back his mother. "With his fiancee!"

"I suppose that would be possible," said Crane's father.

"Yes, I suppose it would," agreed Crane's mother. "Assuming he's telling the truth. I don't find it very likely that any woman would want to marry our son. Either he's making up a story for some reason, or she must be a very plain girl with no sense of self-worth."

"She's the most beautiful woman who ever lived, and she has a fine sense of self-worth!" snapped Crane. "We are very much in love, thank you, Mother!"

"I just can't imagine what she sees in you, is all," retorted his mother, coldly. "Surely no woman would want a weak, spineless, cowardly man who can't even stand up for himself, let alone her."

"Mother, I am doing this for her because she asked it of me, but when our lunch is over, I never want to see either of you again," growled Crane.

"The feeling is mutual, Jonathan," retorted his mother. "Let's say Sunday at noon, yes? You both can come over here – it's quite an imposition, really, but I'm used to that from you by now. Goodbye."

And she hung up the phone. Crane glared at it, then slammed down the receiver hard. "Well, at least I'll only have to endure one lunch with them," he muttered. "Can't be too difficult. And it's worth it for Emilia."

He forced his thoughts to happier things, turning back to Tetch. "Speaking of which, I was hoping you'd be my best man for our wedding next month."

"I'd be absolutely delighted, Jonathan," said Tetch, smiling at him. "But that's a very short time to plan a whole wedding."

"We're having a small civil ceremony at the courthouse," replied Crane. "There's not much planning involved. But I repeat, please don't spread it around to anyone. You're really the only one of my acquaintances we're inviting."

A knock came on the door suddenly. "Are you expecting company?" asked Crane, going to answer it. His face fell when he saw who it was. "Oh God, it's the clowns!" he gasped.

"What do they want?" asked Tetch.

"Only one way to find out, I suppose," sighed Crane, opening the door and forcing a smile. "Hello, Joker. Harley. Children."

"There's the happy couple!" chuckled Joker, beaming at Crane and Tetch. "Hope you two have made up after all that pretending to date a woman nonsense! Bet you made him jealous, just like you hoped, and now you're back together and the sex has never been better, am I right?"

"Emilia and I are engaged to be married," snapped Crane.

"Oh, I see I'm not right and he's upping the ante!" chuckled Joker. "Better kiss and make up soon, Tetchy, or who knows how far he'll go!"

"Aw, congrats, Johnny, that's great news!" exclaimed Harley. "When's the wedding?"

"We haven't set a date yet," retorted Crane.

"Well, I'll be expecting an invite when you do," said Harley, smiling. "The kiddies will look so precious in a little dress and a little suit, won't you, babies?" she cooed.

"I'm sorry, Harley, I wasn't expecting you this morning," said Tetch. "What brings you to my home?"

"Yeah, sorry for just dropping by like this, but we were in the neighborhood," said Harley. "And I thought we'd pick up those records from you, if you don't mind."

"Records?" repeated Crane.

Tetch clapped a hand to his forehead. "I'm so sorry, Harley, I'd completely forgotten about that! I promised her I'd let her borrow some of my classical music records," he explained.

"Studies say listening to classical music helps kiddies brains grow," said Harley, ruffling the twins' hair. "Makes 'em smarter."

"Not that the kiddies ain't gonna be little geniuses already, just like their Daddy," cooed Joker, smiling at the children. "But Harley insists on not just relying on genetic, hereditary genius, for some reason. To be fair, with the size of her brain, maybe the kiddies could use a little help to counteract the effect of her genes."

"Aw, puddin', you're such a kidder!" sighed Harley, kissing him.

"I'll just go collect some for you, Harley – excuse me for a moment," said Tetch. "Would anyone like tea? Or some sweets for the children?"

"Ake," repeated J.J.

"There's no cake today, sweetie," purred Harley, kissing him.

"Actually, I might have some tea cakes lying around," said Tetch, heading for the kitchen as Joker and Harley took a seat in the living room with Crane.

"So how did you propose to Emilia, Johnny?" asked Harley, smiling at him.

"Oh, nothing fancy," said Crane. "Just on my knees to her in my room."

"Aw, that's kinda cute," said Harley. "Although when Mr. J proposes to me, I want it to be a big, public proposal with a lotta guns and screaming and smiles. Maybe a buncha grinning corpses or blood letters that spell out the words 'I love you, Harley Quinn. Will you marry me?' And fireworks. There's gotta be fireworks, huh, puddin'?"

"Yeah, that's really gonna happen, Harl," retorted Joker, rolling his eyes.

"I think Emilia was happy with the way I did it," replied Crane. "She's not really the type to want a big, fancy, public proposal. It was just the two of us, and Lenore, of course," he added, petting her.

"Yeah, bet the birdie is feeling all jealous and replaced now that you got a real woman in your life," laughed Joker.

"Lenore is very fond of Emilia," retorted Crane. "Only sometimes she has to be excluded from certain places and she gets very put out, don't you, my precious?" he asked.

Lenore squawked. "We went to the Gotham Hilton last night for our third date, which of course doesn't allow pets," continued Crane. "And she still hasn't forgiven me this morning."

"Wow, you must really love Emilia to take her someplace that fancy," said Harley. "Mr. J never takes me anywhere nice anymore."

"A lotta fancy, snobbish restaurants say they don't want kids," said Joker, shrugging. "Or they object to Harley breastfeeding in public. So we either gotta show up with the kiddies and threaten people until they let us in, or we gotta just start killing people who criticize her. Either way, it's a lotta hassle."

"I don't even see what the big deal is – who wouldn't want the company of our precious little angels?" cooed Harley, kissing her children. "They're a little rowdy and messy sometimes, but they're just curious and energetic, is all. Kids will be kids. People just need to lighten up. And I dunno why anyone would ever object to seeing boobs, especially when I'm just using 'em to feed the babies. You see worse than that on TV these days. Plus guys on the internet say I have nice boobs, and even Mr. J thinks so now that I'm breastfeeding."

"Well, Johnny probably don't wanna see boobs because they just remind him of what he can't have!" chuckled Joker.

"How dare you presume to know what I can and can't have?" snapped Crane. "My fiancee and I have a wonderful, healthy, physical relationship, thank you very much!"

"You expecting congratulations?" asked Joker. "You're like, what, fifty? You should really be embarrassed it's taken you this long, more than anything. I'll bet it was really, really awkward too, with you crying and thanking her and only lasting about ten seconds."

"It was actually incredible in every way, thank you!" snapped Crane. "Not that I want to discuss such things with you, or anyone! It's a private affair between Emilia and me!"

The doorbell rang suddenly and Crane stood up to answer it. "He wouldn't be so defensive if it had actually been good," said Joker to Harley. Crane gritted his teeth as he threw open the door.

"Emilia, my love, what a pleasant surprise," he said. "Please do come in."

"Thank you, Jonathan," she said, kissing him. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you and Jervis had company…" she said, noticing Joker and Harley.

"They weren't expected," retorted Crane.

"Congratulations, Emilia," said Harley, sincerely. "Johnny told us all about your engagement. I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you," said Emilia, smiling at Crane. "I don't think I could be happier."

"Yep, told us about your engagement and a few other things!" chuckled Joker, grinning. "So how was it for you, sweetheart? Be honest, now."

"How was…what?" asked Emilia, looking at Crane.

"Nothing, my dear," snapped Crane, giving Joker a warning look.

"I just stopped by to give you back your watch," she said, reaching into her bag. "I found it in my purse when I got home – I think it must have…fallen in accidentally last night."

"Yeah, stuff tends to go flying when we're in the mood too!" chuckled Joker. "Sometimes you lose items of clothes for months, ain't that right, Harl?"

"I've lost my favorite pair of panties I dunno how many times," agreed Harley.

"And I still can't find my Batman boxers anywhere, although Harley insists those got lost in the laundry," said Joker.

"Yeah...that's probably what happened, puddin'," agreed Harley. "I really, definitely didn't throw them out or nothing."

Emilia started blushing. "Um…yes. Jonathan, could I have a quick word in private, please?" she asked.

"Of course, my dear," he said, following her out of the room.

"I hope that ain't slang for a quickie!" chuckled Joker. "But it's a good sign, Johnny – she can't even go a few hours without it! Be careful she don't turn into a clinging sex maniac like Harley though!"

Crane slammed the door to his bedroom to drown out the Joker's mocking laugh. "I'm sorry about that, my dear, what is it?" he asked.

Emilia was blushing furiously. "You…told people?" she stammered. "About what we did last night?"

"Well, not intentionally, but he mocked me for never having been with a woman, so I told him…"

"Jonathan, I trusted you to be discreet," said Emilia. "I thought it didn't even need to be said that I don't want what we did being spread around. It was something special and private between the two of us, not something I want you gloating about to the likes of the Joker! I didn't think you were the kind of man who'd do that, who'd brag about his sexual conquests to his friends…"

"The Joker is not my friend!" protested Crane. "And I didn't brag! But if you knew how much and how long he tormented me about…"

"That's no reason to tell everyone that we had sex in a hotel room after three dates!" snapped Emilia. "Do you think I went home and gave Brittany details of what we did? That cheapens it, and makes it seem common and dirty…"

"I didn't give him details!" said Crane. "I just told him we have a healthy, physical relationship! It's nothing to be upset about…"

"Maybe not to you, Jonathan," she retorted. "I was taught to save myself for my wedding night. Seeing as how we are engaged to married, I thought it wouldn't matter if we did things a little early, since you are soon to be my husband. But I don't want people thinking of me as an easy woman, and I certainly don't want our special night cheapened by being talked about casually like some kind of joke! I can never face the Joker again without feeling embarrassed and mocked…"

"And that's how he makes me feel all the time!" protested Crane. "That's why I told him!"

"You don't encourage a man like that by giving him ammunition!" retorted Emilia. "Honestly, Jonathan, I thought you knew how to deal with bullies by now!"

He didn't respond. "I have to go," said Emilia, heading for the door.

"My love, please, don't be angry," said Crane, catching her arm. "I didn't mean to upset you…"

"I won't deny you've upset and disappointed me, Jonathan," murmured Emilia. "But I don't want to talk about it anymore. Call me later."

She re-entered the living room, where the twins were munching on tea cakes and Tetch was handing Harley a selection of records. "Nice seeing you all again," she murmured, heading for the front door in a hurry. "Goodbye."

"Emilia, darling, wait…" said Crane, rushing after her.

"Call me later, Jonathan," she repeated. "I'll hopefully have calmed down by then."

She kissed him hastily and then shut the door. "Well, I hope you're happy!" snapped Crane, rounding on Joker. "She's dreadfully upset that I told you about our intimacy!"

Joker grinned. "Then my work is done!" he chuckled, standing up. "C'mon, Harley, let's blow this place! Probably what Emilia did to you last night, huh?" he asked Crane.

"Get out!" shouted Crane. The twins instantly burst into tears at the shouting, and Harley tried to calm them.

"Bye, Johnny, bye, Jervis, and thanks!" she whispered, as they left, shutting the door behind them, with the twins' cries ringing down the stairs.

Crane collapsed into a chair, burying his face in his hands. "Oh, why do I ruin everything?" he muttered.

"You've not ruined anything, Jonathan – you mustn't be so hard on yourself," said Tetch, gently. "Women can sometimes be very touchy, and your relationship will have its ups and downs, like any other. But your love for each other will see you through. Your love and your ability to apologize and take the blame, of course," he added with a grin.

Crane nodded. "I'll send her some flowers right away," he said. "And candy, and gifts, and a card…"

"Might not want to start off with all that on the first fight," replied Tetch. "Or you'll have to buy her a palace by the tenth."

"I don't want to fight with her," murmured Crane. "Not ever again. It's horrible seeing her upset like that. And I promised her…that she would have no reason to be afraid of me…that I would never hurt her…"

"Jonathan, she'll forgive you," said Tetch, reassuringly. "Probably in a few hours. It's not an unpardonable offense, after all."

"Hurting her is," murmured Crane. "The thought that I could in any way harm that perfect angel fills me with horror. It makes me think of myself as a monster, a brute who doesn't deserve her…"

"Jonathan, please stop talking nonsense," said Tetch. "You're not a monster or a brute."

"The Scarecrow is," murmured Crane. "And I promised her…last night…that I was done with him forever. But maybe…if I can hurt her like this…maybe I'm not. Maybe it's some permanent part of me…"

"I daresay we can all act monstrously if properly pushed," replied Tetch. "I know I can, and I'm sure even Emilia can. But I've always believed that love can overcome hate, and your love for this girl has completely transformed you in the best way. I just don't see any reason why you'd need the Scarecrow again."

"Neither do I," agreed Crane. "But I couldn't see upsetting her either, and I have. Maybe it's a sign of things to come, maybe our relationship is doomed, maybe I should…"

"Maybe you should have a cup of tea," interrupted Tetch. "And calm down. Lenore, cheer him up while I put the kettle on," he said, standing up.

The raven cooed gently, nuzzling Crane. He took a deep breath, petting her. "You're right," he murmured. "You're both right. There's no reason to overreact. I'll call the girl in a few hours and…"

The telephone rang at that moment, and Crane went to answer it. "Hello?"

"Jonathan?" said Emilia's voice.

"Yes, my love?" he asked.

There was a pause, and then she whispered, "I love you."

He nearly sobbed in relief. "Oh, my angel," he whispered. "I love you too."


	12. Chapter 12

"You must be nervous – you're looking cute again," said Emilia with a smile on the drive over to Crane's parents' house.

He said nothing, staring straight ahead, and she gently put her hand on his knee. "Jonathan?" she asked.

"Forgive me, my dear, I'm just trying to mentally prepare myself," he said. "Build up a shield around my emotions, as I always had to do with my parents."

"Perhaps it won't be so bad, Jonathan," said Emilia. "Often I find when I build things up in my head, I think the experience is going to be worse than it really is. You should try to relax."

"No, I won't be able to relax when I'm there," muttered Crane. "Back in that house, with those people, and those memories…"

"But that's all they are, Jonathan," interrupted Emilia. "Memories. They're in the past, and they can't hurt you now. You're not a scared, bullied little boy anymore. You're a man. You're my future husband. You don't have anything to be afraid of."

"I only fear one thing anymore, my dear, and that is losing you," replied Crane.

"Well, that'll never happen," replied Emilia. "Certainly not of my own volition, anyway."

They were at a stoplight, so Crane leaned over and kissed her gently. "With you by my side, my dear, I feel I can bear almost anything," he murmured.

"Isn't it odd that Lenore didn't want to come along this time?" asked Emilia.

"She's a smart girl," retorted Crane. "And a lucky one. She knows this is a fool's errand that can only end badly."

"Are you calling me a fool, Jonathan Crane?" asked Emilia.

"I would never do that, my dear," he replied. "Perhaps a little naïve…"

"Oh, and you're Mr. Worldly," she retorted. "The man who suggested we watch pornography before we made love so that we'd know what we were doing…"

"You said it was a good idea!" retorted Crane. "And you are not telling my parents that story!"

"Of course I'm not!" she snapped. "And it _was_ a good idea. It showed us what not to do. And it was much, much more fun to figure it out for ourselves…"

"My love, perhaps making me remember this while I'm trying to drive to my parents' house is not the best course of action," interrupted Crane.

Emilia grinned. "Maybe it would help you feel better about this lunch if you knew that afterward, we can go someplace with just the two of us and practice making love some more. Practice makes perfect, after all."

"I already thought it was pretty perfect," replied Crane. "But as you wish, my dear."

"Only if you want to," she replied, shrugging.

"I do want to," he agreed. "Very, very much so. In fact, I'm going to rush through this lunch as quickly as possible."

"You would have anyway," replied Emilia, smiling.

"Yes, but now my primary motivation is you," he murmured, kissing her again.

"But you're not telling the Joker about it this time," she said, firmly.

"Never again, my love, I swear," he agreed. "Not him or anybody else. Our private affairs are our private affairs. I've learned my lesson."

"Good," she said. "And I did tell Brittany we had our first fight. She was impressed that it took us six months. Though I told her it was over who would pay for dinner."

"It very nearly was," replied Crane.

"They say makeup sex is the best," continued Emilia, giving him a warning look not to start that again. "I'm very much looking forward to seeing if that's true. And all we have to do is just get through one little lunch. Now that's not so bad, is it, Jonathan?"

"We'll see," he retorted, as they pulled up in front of his parents' house, one of several identical houses set in a row of brownstone buildings. The sight of it set Crane on edge again, as memories rushed back of the times he had stumbled home to this place, covered in cuts and bruises and knowing nobody inside would care…

Emilia twined her hand in his and kissed his cheek, sensing his thoughts. He squeezed her hand tightly in return. "I love you, Jonathan Crane," she whispered. "Just remember that."

He nodded as they went up the steps to the house together and rang the bell.

It was answered by a tall, thin old lady with a hard, sharp face, who looked as if she had forgotten how to smile. She glared from Crane to Emilia, and then held open the door. "Well, come in," she snapped.

"Thank you, Mother," said Crane, as they stepped inside his old house. It was exactly as he remembered it – cold and dark, with garish knick-knacks and ugly pictures lining the walls.

"Your father is in the dining room – you must forgive him for not coming to meet you, but he can't move about as well these days," said Crane's mother, leading them down the dark hallway. "We've had to install a chairlift, which as you might imagine, did not come cheap."

"Surely Father gets a comfortable pension from the University?" asked Crane. "My Father used to work at Gotham State, our rival school," he explained to Emilia. "He taught philosophy."

"He gets a pension, but what with medical bills and energy bills and taxes bleeding everybody dry, there's very little to spare," snapped Crane's mother. "Some of us can't be extravagant with money, Jonathan. We spent God knows how much of it raising you, and look what a waste that was. Some people have children who provide for them in their old age, but not our ungrateful son."

"Well, at least you don't waste anything by heating the house," replied Crane, noticing Emilia shiver. He removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders as they entered another cheerless room, with the same questionable decoration. An old, thin man with glasses sat hunched over the dining room table in a wheelchair, his pale eyes dull and lifeless.

"Gerald, our son has arrived," said Crane's mother, loudly.

The man looked up at Crane, and his look was neither hate-filled nor angry as his mother's was – it was simply emotionless.

"Hello, Father," said Crane, quietly.

"You have to speak up around him – he's a little deaf," snapped his mother.

"Hello, Father," repeated Crane, louder. "Please allow me to introduce my fiancee – this is Miss Emilia Lee. Emilia, my parents, Gerald and Margery Crane."

"It's wonderful to meet you," said Emilia, sincerely. "What should I call you?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Crane will do," snapped Mrs. Crane, heading into the kitchen. "I'm just going to check on lunch. There's not very much to spare, so I hope you're not very hungry."

"I trust you've considered it very carefully," said Mr. Crane, looking at Emilia with the same lack of emotion in his eyes.

"Considered…what?" she asked, puzzled.

"Marriage," he replied. "It's not something that should be entered into lightly, or because of some silly romantic whim. You need to consider all aspects of it, and obviously you haven't, or you wouldn't be marrying my son."

"And…why is that?" asked Emilia, slowly.

Mr. Crane gestured at him with a wave of his hand. "Objective facts. My son is not a hardy physical specimen, and therefore not ideal for procreation. I made the calculation when I married Margery that our respective hereditary traits would likely result in a decent physical specimen to carry on our family line. My calculations were mistaken."

He didn't say this with any kind of malice – he talked as if he was merely stating facts, or giving a lecture. It was almost colder than if he was intentionally being malicious.

"Um…well, I'm not sure…genetics has much to do with it," stammered Emilia, slowly.

"My dear young lady, it has everything to do with it," replied Mr. Crane, with the same objective, balanced tone. "The purpose of marriage is to procreate and pass on genetic material. That is why such a monogamous institution was established, and why the preservation of the female's virginity was so important, so that a male knew that he would be the only one to mate with the female, and that any offspring she would bear would obviously be of his genetic material. And males and females, like animals in the wild, choose their mates based on their desirable hereditary traits, usually physical attributes in a state of nature, where a female would want a male to be strong and protective of her and her offspring. Hence the strong, muscular male usually mates with several females, while the weaker, scrawny males are killed or banished from the pack. Simple evolutionary desire, so that the species does not die out. And frankly selecting a man with weaker, scrawny qualities, which he will undoubtedly pass onto your offspring, shows a lack of judgement, and an unconcern for the continuation of your own genetic line, not to mention the human race."

Emilia just stared at him in disbelief. "Oh…well…I love Jonathan," she stammered at last.

Mr. Crane stared blankly at her. "Love," he repeated. "I am afraid I am unfamiliar with the precise definition of that term."

"Love?" said Emilia. "Well, it's…sort of an unconditional emotion that you feel toward…people who are close to your heart. The desire to…to care for them and protect them and help them and…"

"Yes, I am aware of the theory," interrupted Mr. Crane. "But I have seen very little practical demonstrations of it. I understand the evolutionary asset behind lust, for instance, where the physical desires of the body encourage the creation of children. And I understand the evolutionary asset in people joining together in couples or groups to protect each other. But I can see no evolutionary reason for an unconditional need for a person – that might lead the individual to do dangerous things for someone they unconditionally loved. It hardly seems a practical or necessary emotion."

"I…suppose it's not," agreed Emilia. "But it's certainly a very pleasant one."

"Pleasures fade, young lady," replied Mr. Crane. "But reason stays until you die. I know which one I would recommend cultivating."

"Gerald! Come help me with the roast!" called Mrs. Crane from the kitchen. He obeyed, wheeling himself into the neighboring room.

Emilia stared after him, and then up at Crane. "Well, isn't it nice talking to my parents?" he asked, dryly. "Don't you find Father's unemotional logic and reason simply charming?"

"Jonathan, I had no idea…that anyone could be so…so…cold," stammered Emilia. "He…he doesn't feel…anything!"

"No, he never did," agreed Crane. "Neither he nor Mother did. In that way they were very well suited. I suppose that was something they carefully thought through and considered before they got married too," he sighed.

"Oh, my love, I'm so sorry," murmured Emilia. "I had no idea…"

"I tried to warn you," replied Crane. "But you were too headstrong to listen to me. So now we both have to pay the price for your lack of credulity," he replied, with a smile at her. "You're just lucky I love you so much that I don't mind doing difficult things for the person I unconditionally need."

Emilia kissed him tenderly just as his parents re-entered with the food. "What on earth are you doing?" demanded Mrs. Crane.

"We're kissing, Mother," retorted Crane, drawing away.

"If you are not planning on mating in the near future, you do not need to engage in such preliminaries," said Mr. Crane, in an even, level tone.

"Don't you ever just…casually kiss because you want to?" asked Emilia, slowly. "Because you feel the need to express affection, because you love each other?"

Crane's parents just looked at her. "Is she always this dense, Jonathan?" asked Mrs. Crane. "And rude. Suggesting that we engage in casual foreplay indeed!"

"She does seem to have an unhealthy obsession with love," agreed Mr. Crane. "I trust you've spoken to her about it, Jonathan."

"Yes, Father, we've talked about it," agreed Crane. "And Emilia is not dense, Mother. She's the brightest woman I've ever met."

"That doesn't sound too hard - you've probably not met that many women," retorted Mrs. Crane, as she served the food onto the table and they all sat down. "Aside from the ones who used to beat you up at school, of course."

"I was not beaten up by women, Mother," growled Crane. "Though Lord knows they picked on me too."

"We told you at the time, Jonathan, it was simply a natural response," replied Mr. Crane. "Children display a pack mentality similar to animals, and you were the runt of the litter. What did you expect?"

"I hardly think Jonathan can be blamed for simply being born the way he was," replied Emilia.

"Nobody is blaming him, young lady," replied Mr. Crane, in that same, unemotional tone. "I merely explained to him why it was happening, that's all."

"I blamed him," retorted Mrs. Crane. "If he had fought back, he would have stopped being picked on. It's as simple as that."

"I was in no position to fight several bigger and stronger children, Mother!" snapped Crane.

"So instead you acted like a coward, hiding and running and crying, and you were treated like a coward," retorted Mrs. Crane. "Seems fair to me. And then you'd come home crying and expecting sympathy when I was the one who had to get the blood out of your clothes, and mend them countless times…"

Emilia felt Crane nearly shaking in rage, and she tried to calm him, sliding her hand into his. "This looks like a lovely roast, Mrs. Crane, thank you," she said, gently.

"There's not much of it, like I said, but the price of meat these days is outrageous," sniffed Mrs. Crane. "Like everything else."

Everyone ate in silence for a few moments, the Cranes because they had nothing else to say, and Emilia because she didn't know what to say. "Do you…have any old pictures of Jonathan as a child?" she asked at last. "I imagine he was a very cute boy."

"Too skinny and lanky, much as he is now," retorted Mrs. Crane.

"Why do you think we would have pictures?" asked Mr. Crane, looking at her in puzzlement again.

"Well…for sentimental reasons…good memories, that kind of thing," said Emilia.

"My parents are not sentimental people, my dear, in case you hadn't noticed," said Crane. "And not the type for either making or reflecting on good memories. We didn't do things like travel or have parties…"

"Who has the money for that?" demanded Mrs. Crane. "Do you realize how expensive it is to raise a child, Jonathan? Feeding and clothing you cost enough without pampering you with frivolities. I suggest you consider very carefully before you decide to have children whether the cost of their upkeep is worth having them. It certainly wasn't in our case."

"But you had…books, didn't you, Jonathan?" asked Emilia.

"Father has a large library here, for his research," said Crane. "I borrowed most of what I read from him, or the local library. I didn't have children's books or things like that."

"You shouldn't patronize children," said Mr. Crane. "They shouldn't start by reading silly stories with simple words – get them on classic literature as soon as possible to broaden their minds with the best ideas."

"Not that it did Jonathan much good," said Mrs. Crane. "First getting a useless degree teaching a made-up subject, and now committing stupid crimes in a silly costume. Our son, the criminal lunatic, and he wonders why we don't care to speak to him."

"Yes, there's no logical reason or explanation for what you're doing, Jonathan," said Mr. Crane, evenly. "You know that, don't you?"

"I believe there is, Father," said Crane, quietly.

Mrs. Crane snorted. "You're just a grown child having a temper tantrum, Jonathan. Hurting people just because you were hurt. It's immature and silly, although you probably see yourself as some sort of noble avenger…"

"Yes, and madness is hereditary, young lady," said Mr. Crane, nodding at Emilia. "Another reason why your choice of husband is questionable. You don't want your children to be a bunch of lunatics, do you?"

"I believe Jonathan's madness is something he can control," said Emilia, gently. "If…the reason for it is removed, then he has no reason to hurt people, and neither will our children."

"The reason is that he's a whining, attention-seeking crybaby," retorted Mrs. Crane. "As he always was. You can't change that about him – it's a fundamental part of him as a person. Believe me, we tried to toughen him up, and were met with only resentment and coldness."

"Forgive me for giving as good as I got, Mother," murmured Crane.

There was cold, angry, awkward silence again. "Do you have…anything from when Jonathan was a boy?" asked Emilia at last. "A favorite toy or book…"

"I didn't have toys," replied Crane. "But I did get my first copy of Edgar Allan Poe from Father's library, which you might be interested in seeing. I wrote my name on the inside front cover in a fairly childish hand, if I recall."

Mrs. Crane sighed, standing up. "I'll see if I can find it," she muttered, as if this was a particularly arduous chore.

They sat in silence until her return, where she threw a thick, leather-bound book down on the table. "There it is," she said.

Emilia started back in horror and clung to Crane's arm as dust flew everywhere. He stood up, attempting to conceal the book from view. "Excuse me, Mother, I'll just go clean this quickly…"

"What on earth is the matter?" demanded Mrs. Crane, glaring at the terror in Emilia's eyes.

"My fiancee has a slight phobia of dust," explained Crane.

Both Crane's parents stared at her. "Dust?" repeated Mrs. Crane, contemptuously. "Why would anyone be afraid of dust?"

"It's…a bit of an irrational fear," whispered Emilia.

"That's the definition of a phobia," agreed Crane. "Don't worry, my dear, I'll get rid of it…"

"Well, it seems obvious why she's marrying you now, Jonathan, if she's mentally ill too," retorted Mrs. Crane. "A fear of dust – that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! A grown woman terrified of a bunch of little specks – you should be ashamed of yourself!"

Crane looked at her, nearly shaking in rage again. "Emilia is not mentally ill," he murmured. "And you will apologize to her right now for speaking to her like that, and for deriding her fear."

"No, Jonathan, it's all right…" began Emilia.

"I'm not apologizing to you, or your lunatic girlfriend!" snapped Mrs. Crane. "Nobody should ever apologize for speaking the truth. And any woman who has a fear of dust is clearly not in her right mind. I suspected she was insane for wanting to marry you, but it's nice to have it confirmed. She's an unnatural freak just like you, and she should be just as embarrassed of herself as you should be!"

"I would advise you both against having children," said Mr. Crane, in that same emotionless tone. "Two lunatics have a very high chance of passing on their madness to their offspring, and the last thing the human race needs is to be polluted by more madmen. I would recommend sterilization – that's by far the safest way to ensure you don't inflict your spawn on humanity."

Crane took a deep breath. "Emilia, my dear, could I ask that you leave the room for a moment?" he asked, quietly. "I would like a word alone with my parents."

Emilia nodded, standing up and heading for the door. When it had shut behind her, Crane took another deep breath and then said, in a soft voice that got louder with each passing word, "Let me tell you who should have been sterilized. Both of you, before you were ever allowed to have a child. For all your intelligence and logic and reason, you were lacking the one essential quality for being parents, and that is the ability to love. All your calculations and data and analysis couldn't give you that, and as a result, you created a monster. A monster who only wanted to be cared for, who wanted one kind word from his parents, but a monster who received only coldness and resentment instead. And so the monster grew, and took the name the Scarecrow, and spread his fear and suffering and pain onto untold millions. And yet even now, even now after all this time, that monster could have been stopped by one kind, loving word from the people who created him. But now he will never be. You have made him stronger than ever, and it seems only right that now, you too understand what it was like to live as he did in his every waking moment."

"What on earth are you babbling about?" snapped Mrs. Crane. "What are you…"

But she trailed off as he reached into his pocket, and slowly crushed a small vial in his hand. The effect of the released fear gas was instant, and horrible. Crane sat at the table in the midst of his parents' screaming, long immune to his own creation, and watched their suffering with cold, compassionless eyes.

Emilia heard the screaming from the next room. "Jonathan?" she asked, attempting to open the door, but Crane had locked it from the inside. "Jonathan?" she repeated, banging on it. "What's going on in there?"

At last the screaming stopped, and the door was unlocked. "Come, my dear, quickly," said Crane, grabbing her arm and pulling her safely away from the room before she could inhale the remaining gas.

"What…" she began, but her eyes fell on the horrible sight inside the room just before she was pulled away – the corpses of Crane's parents, their faces contorted in death and unimaginable terror.

Crane pulled her out of the house, slamming the front door, and into the car. She stared at him in horror as he casually buckled his seat-belt and started the engine. "Jonathan…what have you done?" she gasped at last.

"The Scarecrow did what needed to be done," said Crane, quietly, staring straight ahead as he drove.

Emilia gazed at him, at the coldness in his eyes, and almost didn't recognize him. It was almost as if he had become a different person – the unfeeling, heartless monster known as the Scarecrow, who could make people suffer the worst torture without feeling any kind of remorse.

"Jonathan…" she gasped, tears rising to her eyes. "Jonathan…what's happened to you?"

"Didn't you hear them?!" he demanded. "Didn't you hear the vile, horrible, nasty things they said about you, and me, and our children?! They deserved that! All bullies deserve that!"

"Oh God, Jonathan…" she sobbed.

"Tell me I'm wrong!" he demanded. "Tell me! I'm not wrong, by God, I'm not! The misery and suffering they inflicted on me, that they tried to inflict on you…"

"It was horrible, Jonathan!" sobbed Emilia. "To see them like that, and to hear their dying screams…"

"I did not find them horrible," murmured Crane. "They were music to my ears."

Emilia stared at him. "Jonathan, what's gotten into you?" she whispered. "I don't recognize you anymore…"

"This is who I am, Emilia!" shouted Crane. "This is who they made me! My parents, and the bullies, and years and years of relentless, unending abuse! If you can't see what a broken, horrible thing I am, then you truly are blind! And you should stop deluding yourself!"

Emilia said nothing, tears trailing down her cheeks. "Take me home, please, Jonathan," she murmured.

Crane's temper softened at the pain in her voice. "My dear, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Please just take me home," she interrupted, firmly. "I don't want to speak about it anymore."

He nodded and they drove in silence, except for Emilia's occasional sniffle as she kept crying.

He pulled up in front of her apartment building. "Shall I see you inside…" he began.

"No, thank you," she said, hastily.

"Should I call you later?" he asked.

"No," she repeated. "No, I…I need some time…alone. To…to…consider."

"Consider…what?" he asked.

She shook her head, opening the car door. "I'm sorry, Jonathan, I can't discuss this right now," she whispered, sliding her engagement ring off her finger and placing it on the dashboard. "But I can't…I just can't…"

She broke off, sobbing, and then climbed out of the car. "Emilia…" he began, but she slammed the car door and raced inside, wiping her eyes as tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

Crane stared after her, feeling his heart breaking. He picked up the engagement ring, and then closed his fist around it, burying his face in his hands. "Oh God, what have I done?" he whispered.


	13. Chapter 13

Tetch knocked on Crane's door. "Jonathan?" he asked, gently. "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry, thank you, Jervis," came Crane's voice from inside.

"At least have a cup of tea," said Tetch, encouragingly. "You haven't eaten anything in days…"

"I am aware of that, thank you, Jervis," replied Crane. "But the fact remains that I'm not hungry, so please leave me alone."

Tetch sighed heavily. "Could you at least unlock the door and let me talk to you face to face?"

"I have nothing to say," replied Crane. Tetch heard a fluttering noise, and then Crane snapped, "No, Lenore, don't you dare take the key out of the lock! No, don't you dare…"

But the raven had already pushed the key under the door with her beak. Tetch grabbed it and unlocked the door. "At least she sees reason, Jonathan!" he snapped, storming into the room and throwing open the curtains. "I simply will not allow you to continue to mope in here feeling sorry for yourself and trying to starve yourself to death!"

"What difference would it make if I did?" muttered Crane, who was curled up in bed holding the engagement ring. Lenore was perched on his pillow, cooing gently. "Who would care?"

"I would care," retorted Tetch. "Lenore would care."

The raven cawed in agreement. "Are you really so selfish that you would deprive us of our friend?" he demanded.

"God, Jervis, you of all people must understand how I'm feeling!" snapped Crane. "The woman I love has left me! My life is over!"

"My life isn't over, and the woman I love left me!" retorted Tetch. "Of course I understand how you feel, but you mustn't give in to despair, Jonathan!"

"What else is there to do?" he muttered.

"Act, dammit!" shouted Tetch. "Talk to the girl!"

"I tried calling her dozens of times – she won't pick up the phone," said Crane. "I even went over to her apartment, but she won't see me. Her roommate answered the door and told me not to bother her again. There's nothing else I can do except resign myself to the fact that I let the girl of my dreams slip through my fingers, and that I will forever be alone and unloved from now on."

"Well, frankly, I'm not sure why you're surprised by the fact that nice girls don't like it when their fiances horribly murder their own parents!" snapped Tetch. "It should hardly come as a shock that she reacted the way she did, and it was an idiotic thing for you to do!"

"I know!" shouted Crane. "But I couldn't control it! I could never control the Scarecrow!"

He let out a sob. "It's probably better that she's left me," he murmured. "It's for her own good. She's a smart girl – she probably knows I'd only end up hurting her one day. That's why she's done this. She knows I'm a monster, and nobody deserves to be married to a monster. It's for the best that I let her go…"

"Jonathan, for the last time, you're not a monster!" snapped Tetch. "And by God, man, if you love her, don't you ever let her go! You fight for her, as I did! It may have been a futile gesture, but I would have hated myself forever if I had had a chance at love and just given up!"

"It's for her own good," repeated Crane. "She'll be happier without me in the long run. Any woman could do better than a murdering psychopath, especially a woman as beautiful and intelligent and perfect as Emilia. I love her so much, and I just want her to be happy. And she could never be happy with me. If you had seen, Jervis, if you had seen the way she looked at me after it happened, like I was some kind of…of…monster is the only word. Or freak. Or lunatic, which is what I am. I might as well just accept it, as everyone else has."

Lenore cooed gently, nuzzling him. She looked up at Tetch with pleading eyes, and he nodded slowly. "I shall leave you to your misery," he muttered, heading from the room and slamming the door. He grabbed his hat and coat and headed out of the apartment, straight for Emilia's.

He knocked on the door, and it was answered by a pretty blonde girl. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'd like to speak to Miss Lee, please," he said, removing his hat. "Tell her it's Jervis Tetch."

Brittany shrugged. "Just a sec," she said, shutting the door and heading back inside. She opened it a moment later. "She says come in – her room's just down the hall," she said, nodding.

"Thank you," said Tetch.

He knocked on Emilia's door and heard her broken voice whisper, "Come in."

He obeyed, entering the room to see her curled up in bed in a similar condition to Crane, crying softly into her pillows. "Hello, my dear," he said, gently.

"Hello, Jervis," she whispered, not looking up at him. "How's Jonathan?"

"Very similar to how you are now," replied Tetch, sitting down on the bed. "I can't understand why two people who love each other are doing this to themselves. When I was in the throes of my despair, it was because my love was unrequited. But yours is not. And you have no idea what a blessing that is."

"Oh God, Jervis, I have no idea about anything anymore," whispered Emilia. "I do love Jonathan. But I can't love that thing he became when he murdered his parents. If you had seen his eyes then…he was a completely different person. I was afraid of him. I can't be afraid of the man I'm going to marry. I can't be afraid of the man I love. But I am."

Tetch was silent. "I wish you had been in Arkham with us, my dear," he said, softly.

"Why?" she asked.

"Well, it was a place full of very mad people," he said. "Very bad people, some of them. The Joker was probably the worst, as you might imagine, but there were others. Two-Face, who murdered with a flip of a coin. Poison Ivy, who wanted to eradicate humanity with plants. And Jonathan and me, Jonathan determined to inflict terror on everyone, and me mad from a broken heart. It was a place where the worst and most dangerous of humanity were thrown together to somehow cope with each other. And cope we did. It became a sort of home for us. And like all homes, there were people we didn't quite get along with, people we would fight with, but people we had to see day after day nevertheless. Bad people, and yet…good people. People who lived lives without shame and fear. People who knew who they were, and were unafraid of what the world thought of them. People who had been damaged by life and fate, and yet spent their lives trying to carve out some small slice of happiness in this miserable world, and isn't that really what we're all trying to do? And so even though they were objectively mad, there was a kind of sanity there, and a kind of comfort, in that although these people could do bad things…perhaps they were not all bad. Perhaps they even deserved the love and respect of their fellow human beings. Perhaps they needed it all the more for being as damaged as they were."

He shrugged. "Or perhaps I'm speaking nonsense. I have a tendency to do that still. But love saved me from my madness, as surely as it caused it at first. The love I had for my Alice then was mean and selfish and desperate. The love I have for her now, and for her child, is generous and selfless and real. It makes me a better person, and it makes them better people too. That's what you and Jonathan have. The kind of love that makes you both better people. I'm not saying that it will always be easy, or that he will never hurt anyone again, but I know that finding love is the first step toward his healing. You saved him from a dark place, and I think he did the same for you. Please don't send yourselves back there again. Not when you can guide each other toward the light together."

She was silent. "Jervis?" she whispered at last, turning to look at him.

"Yes, my dear?" he asked.

"Is Jonathan…a good man?" she asked, slowly.

Tetch nodded. "One of the best men I've ever met. But even good people can do bad things from time to time, just as bad people can do good things from time to time. The world takes us and twists us and turns us around and around, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, so that sometimes we can't tell up from down, or left from right, or good from bad. That is what it is to be a lunatic, my dear. But sometimes all we need is a bit of help and guidance and love to find our way again. And then even if we make a few wrong turns, and get hopelessly lost in Wonderland…at least there's always someone there to guide us home."

She nodded slowly. "Please tell Jonathan I love him," she murmured. "And I will call him soon, so we can talk."

"You would have done that even without my visit, wouldn't you?" asked Tetch.

She nodded again. "Yes. But I think you sped up the process. So I hope Jonathan is grateful to you – I certainly am," she said, hugging him. "Thank you, Jervis."

"Seeing you and Jonathan happy together is all the thanks I need, my dear," he replied, standing up. "I hope I will see you very soon."

"You will," she agreed. "I promise."

Tetch left, and a few moments later, Brittany knocked on the door. "Well, good for you!" she said, entering and smiling. "A rebound fling is just the thing to get your mind off Marmaduke! Although if you don't mind me saying, you do tend to pick ugly men…"

"Jervis isn't a rebound fling, Brittany," replied Emilia. "He's a friend of Jonathan's. And he's done him and me a very good turn."

She wiped her eyes. "I suppose loving someone, really loving someone, is taking the good with the bad," she murmured. "Even if that bad can be…very shocking sometimes. We must have rain with sunshine, and we can't expect love to be completely perfect."

"I do," said Brittany, shrugging. "But then I break up with guys when things get tough, or they break up with me."

"Perhaps we have different understandings of the concept," murmured Emilia. "But I will talk with Jonathan. I will try to understand…how he could do what he did. He deserves that at least."

"Does this mean the wedding's back on?" asked Brittany. "Because I kinda already ordered a bridesmaid's dress…"

"I don't know," interrupted Emilia. "I don't want to rush into it, but nor do I want to give up on the idea."

She sighed. "We will talk," she murmured. "That's the first step. And see how things go from there."


	14. Chapter 14

The next day, Emilia returned to her job at the University library. She had taken a few sick days since the break-up, but she had determined that getting back into her work and her routine was a good way to try and get her thoughts and feelings under control. She had resolved to call Crane when she got home, although she didn't have the slightest idea what she was going to say to him. She didn't even want to think about the murders, but she was going to have to confront them for his sake. And hopefully be able to forgive them, for both their sakes.

She was scanning some returned books back into the computer system when a bouquet of flowers was placed down on her desk. She looked up in surprise. "Jonathan?" she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you," Crane whispered. "I couldn't keep away from you another moment, and I couldn't go another instant without speaking to you."

"But…but you can't be here!" she stammered, looking around carefully. "Somebody might see you and recognize you! You must be crazy to come here!"

"Yes, I am," he murmured, gazing at her. "Seeing you is worth the risk. I have to know, Emilia. I have to know if I've lost you forever."

She gazed up into his pleading, desperate eyes, and then stood up. "I'm going on my lunch break now, Gina," she said to one of her colleagues, as she took Crane's hand and led him hurriedly away from the front desk.

"We have to go someplace that isn't crawling with university employees," she murmured. "I don't want you being arrested and dragged back to Arkham on my account."

They headed down the stairs to the library's basement, which Emilia unlocked with a key. They entered the room full of stacks of old, damaged, unreadable books, and Emilia locked it behind them.

"There might be some dust in here, my dear…" began Crane.

"It's fine – I can cope if I don't see it," she said, folding her arms across her chest. She took a deep breath. "Jonathan, what happened at your parents' house…"

"Will never happen again," he finished. "I promise you, my dear…"

"I don't want you making promises you can't keep, Jonathan," she murmured, gently. "If you can do something like that the way you did, in a calm, rational, unfeeling manner, then this was not a regrettable mistake or a crime of passion. It is an urge inside you that is very strong. You can't pretend it's not there with a promise. And it's very unlikely to go away, isn't it? Tell me the truth."

Crane nodded slowly. "The truth…the truth is…I have never cared for humanity. My experiences with them have led me to the conclusion that the majority of them are selfish, cruel, hateful creatures who find joy in tearing each other down. There have been rare exceptions, and one of these was you, my angel. I love you so much, and I would never, ever hurt you…but I have no qualms about hurting other people. Especially other people who would try to tear down you, or me. If anyone tried to do so again, I cannot guarantee that I would not react in a similar fashion. The Scarecrow is a part of me, a part that is so, so deep inside me that he can never go away. A part that was born and raised through years and years of torment and abuse. I wish you had the power to wipe that pain away completely, but you cannot, any more than I can wipe the scars from your arms. They are there forever, proof of what the world has done to us. Except mine demands blood, and I fear he always will. He demands that others suffer for my suffering, and I cannot disobey him. I cannot control him, and neither can you, although I wish to God you could. I wish to God that our love would heal everything and make me a whole man again. But it can't. Nothing can ever do that."

He took her hands. "If you accept me as I am, you accept all that I am. You love all that I am, even the monstrous parts. If you cannot accept that, I understand. And although it breaks my heart to let you go, I will respect your wishes. I only want you to be happy, my angel, as happy as you have made me, a man who never thought he could be happy again. And even if that brief taste of happiness is all I will ever have, I will cherish it and you until my dying day. But it is up to you to decide whether you can love a broken creature full of pain and misery and hate, and such undying love for you."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I will leave you to consider…" he began, heading for the door.

She grabbed his hand. "I don't need to consider," she murmured. "I know what my answer will be."

He turned to face her in dread, his heart pounding. Her eyes studied him carefully until she spoke at last. "When we met…when I found out you were the Scarecrow, I considered calling the police. But I didn't. I was curious to know why you did the things you do, and your explanation was reasonable enough that I did not want to call the police. I wanted to know more about you, to understand you, to get closer to you. I knew from the outset who you were, but I think I…chose to forget. I chose to believe that our relationship was a normal, happy one between a normal man and a normal woman."

She gave him a wry smile. "I'm not a normal woman, of course – I accepted that many years ago. And you were never a normal man, Jonathan, not from the moment I met you. That's why I loved you. I loved your intelligence and your passion…and even your pain. You and I shared that – the suffering and the rejection by others, just for being different. But maybe I wanted to forget, to pretend for a time that I could be a regular, pretty girl who gets dressed up and made up to go out to dinner with her boyfriend, hiding her face and her scars behind a cardigan. And…well, you remember how that makeup fiasco ended. And you told me never to hide my scars away again. But I was afraid…I was afraid of being who I was, and of being rejected by you, the one person who understood my pain. I was afraid of being alone again, so I hid myself away. But I never should have pretended to be something I wasn't. I never should have forgotten who I was, and who you were. Because that's what brought us together. Two damaged, broken people who didn't want to be afraid anymore."

She raised her hand to his cheek. "I never want you to pretend to be something you're not," she murmured. "Because I love you, Jonathan Crane. The good and the bad, my fiance and the Scarecrow. You are the man I love. And I'm not afraid of that anymore."

She kissed him passionately. He let out a sob of relief, crushing her body tightly against his. She pulled him down onto the table, sending books and dust flying, and she broke away suddenly with a start.

He cupped her face in his hands. "It's ok," he whispered. "It's ok. Look at me, my love."

She gazed up into his deep brown eyes, and found safety there. "There's nothing to fear," he whispered. "Not ever again."

She smiled. "I know," she whispered, pulling him down on top of her.

"And that, I believe, is what they call makeup sex," said Emilia later, gathering her clothes from the floor. "And I can quite see why people rave about it. Though I honestly never imagined I'd have it at my place of work, with a job I need to get back to in a matter of minutes."

She grinned at him as she dressed. "That's three intense sexual experiences rolled into one, in fact. Makeup sex, workplace sex, and a quickie."

"I think we're progressing very nicely," said Crane, kissing her as he pulled his clothes back on. "Not that anyone will ever know about it except for you and me."

"The secret's part of the thrill, Jonathan," she murmured, kissing him. She fixed her hair. "How do I look? Professional, I hope."

"Unfeasibly beautiful," he murmured, taking her in his arms again. "I can't quite process that this unspeakably gorgeous creature is my girlfriend…"

"Fiancee," corrected Emilia, grinning. "Do you have my ring, by the way? I'd like to show it off."

He pulled it out of his pocket, sliding it back onto her finger. "I'm very glad you came by to talk, Jonathan," she murmured, smiling at him. "But do hurry home now before someone sees you. I wouldn't want to be responsible for your capture."

"That was worth being captured for," replied Crane, grinning. She giggled, kissing him again.

"I'll see you tonight," she whispered. She unlocked the basement door and hurried back upstairs. Crane followed, shutting the door behind him and then making his way quickly out of the library and away from the University's grounds before he was noticed.

Unfortunately, he already had been. Gina, Emilia's colleague, had watched her disappear into the basement with Crane, and then had picked up the telephone. "Hello, Dr. Long? I have some information that I think will be of great interest to you."


	15. Chapter 15

Evening fell, and Emilia ushered everyone out of the library, leaving her alone to lock up. When she was satisfied the building was empty, she grabbed her bag and coat and the flowers from Crane, smiling at them as she headed for the door.

"Miss Lee, isn't it?" asked a voice.

Emilia looked up in surprise to see Dr. Long standing in the doorway. "Dr. Long," she said. "Good evening."

"I know it's late, my dear, and you're probably very eager to get home, but could I have a quick word with you?" he asked.

"About what?" she asked.

"Your earlier inquiries regarding Professor Jonathan Crane," he replied.

"Oh…well, actually, I've found out all I need to know about him," said Emilia, slowly.

"Oh, I know you have," he murmured. "And perhaps a little more than you wanted to know."

"I…don't know what you mean," she replied, slowly.

"I think you do," he whispered. "And what lovely flowers you have, if I may say so. I do hope they're not laced with fear toxin, considering who they were from."

"I don't…" she began, but that was when her eyes strayed downward to see that Dr. Long held a small gun in his hand, a gun which was pointed at her.

"If you would please just cooperate," he murmured. "I do so hate to resort to violence. It's such a brutish thing to do."

Emilia nodded slowly, her heart pounding in terror. But she tried to remain calm – Dr. Long was a respected professor, he wasn't just going to kill her in cold blood. At least she sincerely hoped he wasn't.

"Where is he?" he asked, quietly.

"Where is who?" she asked.

"Don't you dare play dumb with me!" he roared, suddenly furious. "I will use this weapon if I have to! Tell me where the Scarecrow is!"

"I don't know," retorted Emilia.

"You do!" he hissed. "You were seen with him today, sneaking off to the basement. What were you doing in there? Were you plotting with him, conspiring with him against me and this university, just like he did all those years ago? Is that what you were doing?!"

"We were doing nothing of the kind, I assure you," she retorted.

"But you admit you're in league with him!" hissed Dr. Long. "You're working together to infiltrate the university for some sick scheme of his, some twisted revenge plot against me again, no doubt!"

"You certainly have a rather high opinion of yourself, Dr. Long, and you vastly overestimate your importance to Professor Crane," retorted Emilia, coolly. "He has better things to do with his time than go after you…"

"He didn't all those years ago!" roared Dr. Long. "And you have no idea what it's like to be exposed to that gas of his, however briefly! It creates horrors and visions that never go away, that haunt you even after years have passed! I will not be subjected to it again, do you understand me?! Not under any circumstances!"

"Jonathan doesn't want to hurt you!" snapped Emilia. "He doesn't care about you…"

"Jonathan?" he repeated. "You're on first name terms with that…that…thing?"

Fury flared in Emila's heart at this, overriding her common sense. She held out her hand, showing him the ring. "We're engaged to be married!" she snapped.

Dr. Long stared at her in disbelief. "No," he gasped. "No, no, no, that's not true! Nobody could be insane enough to want to marry that…that…monster! You're lying! This is a trick, to make me believe he isn't plotting against me, but he is! I know he is! Tell me the truth!"

"The truth is my fiance came to see me today!" snapped Emilia. "Not to plot against you! You are no longer important to him, Dr. Long! Nor are any of the people who used to bully or deride him! We've both moved beyond that!"

"Psychopaths don't move on!" shouted Dr. Long. "And they don't give up! He will never give up trying to hurt me! It's too coincidental, all of it – him coming here, and finding an ally in you, and your cover story about being engaged…"

"We _are _engaged!" shouted Emilia.

"You stupid girl!" he shouted. "Do you actually think he loves you?! Do you actually think a creature like that can love?!"

"Yes," she retorted. "He has more love to give than anyone I've ever known, because it was denied to him for so long. He has so desperately wanted to feel it, and to share it, and now he does. Because I love him so much."

Dr. Long shook his head vehemently. "No," he said. "No, no, no, it's impossible! He's using you, that must be it! He's using you, don't you see? To gain access to the library, to the departments, and to me! You're being manipulated by a very cunning, evil man…"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" shouted Emilia. "Jonathan is not evil…"

"He's the Scarecrow!" shouted Dr. Long. "Don't you know what he does to people, you little idiot?! Don't you know what he did to me?! He attacked this university with his hideous gas, he drove my colleagues screaming to their death and would have done the same to me, if Batman hadn't interfered! And the Scarecrow was angry at my escape, so he sits in Arkham plotting, biding his time until he can gas me again, until he can finish me off! I won't let you help him murder me! I won't!"

His eyes were wild with frantic terror, and his hand shook as the gun still pointed at Emilia. "You kill me, and Jonathan will murder you," murmured Emilia. "And it will be slow and painful and lingering, I promise you that."

"I'm not going to kill you," growled Dr. Long. "But you are going to help me kill him before he kills me."

"Never!" spat Emilia. "There is nothing you can do or threaten me with to make me hurt Jonathan!"

"You might not help me of your own volition, but that is immaterial," retorted Dr. Long. "I don't need you to be cooperative. I just need him to come looking for you. Now sit down," he snapped, nodding at a chair. The gun was still pointed at her, so Emilia had no choice but to obey him.

"Dr. Long, if you do this, if you hold me here against my will, then you really will bring his wrath down upon you," said Emilia, as he tied her arms behind the chair. "You let me leave, and I will not speak of this to anyone. But if you choose to draw him here by threatening me with harm, then you will be entirely responsible for the consequences of those actions. And trust me when I say they will not be pleasant consequences."

"I hope you're right," replied Dr. Long. "I hope he does care about you enough to come rescue you. Because I will be ready and waiting for him. This time I will have the advantage – this time I will see_ him_ writhing in terror at my feet! And then I will do what the police won't do, what the Batman won't do, and remove a dangerous, violent lunatic permanently from existence. It's the only way, the only way he'll leave me alone. It's him or me, and he's driven me to this! I cannot be blamed for it! It's all his fault!"

He sounded as if he was almost trying to rationalize his behavior to himself. Emilia saw panic and terror and desperation in his eyes, and that made him dangerously unpredictable. Fear made people do strange things, Crane was right – it made monsters out of even the most average of men. Dr. Long was practically insane with his fear of the Scarecrow, and he could not be reasoned with. He truly thought Crane had some wild scheme to kill him, a scheme that she was a part of, and a scheme that he was going to foil by luring Crane into a trap. A trap in which she was the bait.

Dr. Long removed her phone from her purse. "Now let's give him a call, shall we?" he asked, searching through her numbers and dialing Crane's. He held the phone up to her ear. "You do the talking."


	16. Chapter 16

"Emilia is late for a very important date," said Tetch, glancing at the clock. "Are you quite sure you two made up?"

"Yes, Jervis," retorted Crane. "Emilia wouldn't want me to give details, but I promise you, there is no way those actions could be misconstrued. What occurred between us meant reconciliation."

"I am relieved to hear it, and yet not relieved since it does not explain her tardiness," replied Tetch.

"She's probably just had to stay late at work," replied Crane.

"What, for some sort of urgent book emergency?" asked Tetch.

"I don't know – I assume work builds up for librarians as much as for the rest of us," retorted Crane. "Maybe she had to catch up after being off for a few days. But she'll probably call any second saying she's on her way…"

Crane's phone rang at that moment. "There, you see?" he said, answering it. "Nothing to worry about. Hello, my angel."

"Jonathan, please don't come," Emilia whispered. "Please don't listen to him, whatever he says…"

"No, that's not what you're supposed to say, you stupid girl!" came Dr. Long's voice over the other end, followed by a slap and a shriek from Emilia.

"Emilia!" shouted Crane, panicked and angry. "Emilia, what's going on? Where are you?"

"She's safe, Crane," growled a familiar voice. "Safe and sound and waiting for you to come rescue her."

"Long, I swear to God, if you hurt her…" began Crane.

"I don't want to hurt her," interrupted Dr. Long. "It's not her I'm after, Crane. It's you. This business is between us, and it goes way back."

"Then let's settle it between us and let her go!" shouted Crane.

"Not until you come here alone and unarmed," retorted Dr. Long. "And surrender to me. Then I will let her go. But if you disobey me, if you come here to try to rescue her by using your fear toxin on me, then I will kill her. And don't test me, Crane. Don't bring your toxin anyway and think I won't have the guts to kill her, because I will. If she allies herself with a monster, then that makes her a monster too."

"Jonathan, don't, it's a trap!" shouted Emilia, but she was struck again and her shriek made Crane's blood boil.

"Don't you dare hurt her again!" he hissed. "Don't you dare!"

"That's really up to you, isn't it, Crane?" snapped Dr. Long. "The University library. Alone and unarmed. We're waiting," he said, and then the phone clicked off.

"Jonathan, what is it?" asked Tetch. "What's happened?"

"It's all my fault!" hissed Crane. "I shouldn't have gone to see her today! My old colleague, the one who fired me, and who I tried to kill as payback…he's got her. And he insists on me going to the library alone and unarmed to confront him, or he'll kill her."

"You don't think he actually will though, surely?" asked Tetch. "He's not a lunatic, is he?"

"Not officially, but his hatred for me was always irrationally strong," muttered Crane. "And vice versa. He was exposed to my fear gas briefly during our last encounter, so I suppose that could have damaged his mind somewhat. But I'm certainly not going to put Emilia's life at risk by disobeying him."

"But what if he wants to kill you, Jonathan?" demanded Tetch.

"Better me than her!" snapped Crane. "What would you have me do, Jervis? Call his bluff? Leave Emilia to her fate? Call the police?"

"I'd have you think this through!" shouted Tetch. "Sacrificing yourself for the woman you love is all very noble, but if it's completely unnecessary, then it's more stupid than noble!"

"I can't sit here and think when Emilia's in danger because of me!" retorted Crane. "I just can't! I have to act – I have to know she's ok! Every second I delay he could be hurting her – I heard him hit her, and I will not let her be hurt a moment longer if it is in my power to prevent it!"

"And how do you think Emilia will feel if you die for her?" demanded Tetch. "You don't think she'll be consumed with guilt that your death was her fault, on top of her already inconsolable grief? Your death would hurt her more than anything this man could do to her!"

"I don't have a choice!" roared Crane.

"Yes, you do," said Tetch, quietly. "He said come alone and unarmed. So you appear to do that, but in actuality, you will be bringing backup."

"If he sees you, Jervis…" began Crane.

"Not me," interrupted Tetch, nodding at Lenore. "He won't see her."

Crane nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, of course you're right," he said. "Come here, my precious – you need to carry something very important for me."

He held out a small vial of fear toxin to the raven. "Keep that between your beak, and follow me," he murmured. "Once we get to the library, stay in the shadows and wait for my signal. And keep an eye on Emilia. Whatever happens, she must be kept safe."

Lenore nodded, fluttering onto his shoulder. "Good luck, Jonathan," said Tetch. "I only hope when this is over, there will be no more obstacles to your happiness."

"Jervis, if this ends with Emilia being hurt in any way, there will be no happiness for me," murmured Crane, heading out the door. He realized now that he could never move on from his past, that he could never be free of the Scarecrow, but nor did he want to be anymore. The world would keep hurting him, and he needed to keep fighting it. He needed to protect not only himself, but the person he loved now. There was more to lose than ever with Emilia in his life, and he would not fail to protect her again.


	17. Chapter 17

Crane opened the door to the library slowly and entered. It was completely dark inside. "Emilia?" he called. "Emilia, where are you?"

"Jonathan, no!" shouted Emilia. "Don't…"

The lights suddenly flared on, blinding Crane, and then a shot rang out, the bullet catching Crane in the shoulder. He fell back, crying out in pain.

"Jonathan!" shrieked Emilia, staring on in horror as blood poured from his wound.

"Dammit," muttered Dr. Long, stepping forward. "I only have two shots in this, and that one was meant to kill you. Bullets are so expensive these days – I don't want to have to use both. But my aim clearly isn't what it used to be in my old age."

He approached Crane, who had fallen against the wall, hissing in pain and trying to stem the flow of blood. "But no mistakes this time," Long muttered. "Nobody can miss at point blank range."

He raised the gun, pointing it at Crane's face. And that was when Crane headbutted him, slamming his forehead into Long's nose and hearing it break with a satisfying crack.

Long dropped the gun, howling in pain, and Crane made a dive for it. The blood had poured down his arm, making his hands slick, and then Long leapt on him, sending the gun spinning across the floor. The two men struggled, and Emilia was desperate to help Crane, straining against her ropes. Then a movement in the corner of a bookshelf caught her eye.

"Lenore!" she gasped, as the raven flew down, dropping a small vial into her lap. Then she began pecking at the ropes that restrained Emilia. One tore, and Lenore flew over to the other one. As soon as Emilia was free, she grabbed the vial and then raced over to grab the gun. Lenore flew over to where Crane and Long were struggling and began attacking Long. He screamed as her beak and claws cut him, batting at her desperately. An unlucky punch sent her flying into the bookcase.

"Lenore!" shouted Crane, struggling over to her, but Long grabbed him around the neck, tightening his arm around his throat.

"You let him go, now!" shrieked Emilia, pointing the gun at Dr. Long.

"Don't be stupid, girl!" he snapped. "You can't aim that with any degree of accuracy – you fire it, and you risk hitting him! And he can't take another shot!"

"I can take pain, make no mistake about that!" gasped Crane. "Just do it, Emilia!"

She shook her head, tears trailing down her cheeks. "I won't risk hurting you, Jonathan…and he's right…I can't shoot without taking that risk…"

She lowered the gun slowly. "I won't hurt you," she whispered.

And then Crane caught a glimpse of the vial in her hand. Their eyes met. "Emilia, no…please…" he gasped. "No, please don't…"

She smashed the vial in her hands. "No!" he roared, as the fear toxin was released into the air. Dr. Long screamed, releasing Crane to claw at his flesh, and Crane instantly raced over to Emilia, seizing her and dragging her outside, away from the gas. He raced back in to grab Lenore, and to see Dr. Long writhing on the floor, screaming in terror.

Crane dashed outside and slammed the door to the library, and then turned to see to Emilia. "Did you breathe it in?" he gasped.

"I don't think so," she stammered. "Not much if I did…I was holding my breath…"

"Even a little can cause hallucinations," he said. "We must get you home at once, and give you the antidote…"

The door to the library flew open, and Dr. Long collapsed on the threshold, screaming in agony. His face was twisted in horror, and his eyes were wide in terror at something he couldn't see. He clawed horribly at his flesh for a few moments, then gave a final scream and lay still. Emilia stared at him in horror, and then burst into tears, burying her face in Crane's chest.

"Oh God, Jonathan, it's horrible!" she gasped.

"If you don't want to see worse than that, we must get you the antidote as soon as possible," he said, pulling her toward the car.

"Aren't you horrified by that man's death at all?" she whispered.

He shook his head slowly. "I believe anyone who could hurt and threaten you deserves a slow, painful death. And he did shoot me…"

"We should get you to a hospital…your wound…"

"Will be fine," retorted Crane. "It's not the first time I've been shot, and it probably won't be the last. You, on the other hand, need that antidote."

Emilia nodded, climbing into the car. "How's Lenore?" she asked, as Crane placed her gently in the backseat.

"She's fine, aren't you, my precious?" he asked, petting her. "Broken wing, but she's had that before, haven't you?"

Lenore cooed in agreement. "She puts herself through the worst pain for me," he murmured, climbing into the driver's seat.

"That makes two of us," said Emilia. "But I guess you're worth it."

Lenore cooed in agreement again. Crane smiled at Emilia, and then kissed her gently. She returned it, slowly opening her eyes to find herself kissing…a Scarecrow.

She leapt back with a cry. "What is it?" asked Crane.

"I…I think the hallucinations have started," she gasped.

He nodded, and then screeched the car off into the streets of Gotham. Emilia shut her eyes, trying to forget the image of the Scarecrow's face when she had been kissing Crane. She was not sure she ever could.


	18. Chapter 18

Emilia awoke the next morning to sunshine streaming through the windows, and the sight of Lenore sleeping on her bust of Pallas perch, with a bandaged wing. Emilia was lying in bed, still fully dressed, with Crane's arm around her waist – he too had a bandaged shoulder, and was fast asleep. Memories of the previous night came flooding back to Emilia – not just the memory of being injected with the antidote and then drifting off to sleep, but also the memory of the death of Dr. Long, and the fear gas hallucination of the Scarecrow…

It hadn't really been a hallucination, though, she thought, as she looked at Crane. His face in sleep was relaxed and peaceful, but she knew this man, the man she loved, was also a heartless, unfeeling psychopath who killed people by making them suffer slow, lingering deaths imagining their greatest fears. He was the Scarecrow. And she couldn't ignore that, or change that.

But after last night, she had seen what could drive a man to do things like that. Crane wasn't heartless or unfeeling – he did feel very deeply, just not for very many people. And even good people were sometimes put in positions where doing bad things was necessary. She had been forced to kill a man horribly, after all, and she wasn't a bad person. And a man like Crane, who had always been bullied and hurt by the world, through no fault of his own…she couldn't blame him for fighting back.

She kissed him tenderly, and he awoke. "Good morning, my angel," he whispered, stroking her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she murmured. "About a lot of things."

"Is the Scarecrow gone?" he asked.

She shook her head slowly. "No. I don't think he ever will be. But it's all right, Jonathan. I understand now. You told me, when we first met, that you didn't think I would understand him, and it's taken me a long time. But I finally do. I do," she whispered, kissing him.

"And while I don't…entirely approve of a life of crime…I will always support you," she continued. "In whatever you feel you need to do. That's what love is. And I love you, Jonathan Crane."

"Oh, Emilia," he whispered, tears in his eyes. "You truly are an angel among women."

"Clearly I'm not," she retorted. "I made a man suffer a horrible death last night."

"And saved my life in doing so," he agreed. "So you are _my_ angel, if nothing else. My guardian angel," he said, raising a hand to her lips and kissing it.

"I'm also starving, which I don't think is something angels are," she said, sitting up.

There was a knock on the door. "Breakfast is ready!" called Tetch's voice from outside.

Crane and Emilia shared a look. "Now _he's _an angel," said Emilia.

"No arguments here," agreed Crane, picking up Lenore, who cooed sleepily, and placing her gently on his good shoulder. They all entered the dining room to see a feast spread on the table.

"I do hope there's enough," said Tetch, who was pouring the tea. "How are we all feeling this morning?"

"Mostly recovered, thank you, Jervis," said Crane, rubbing his shoulder and hissing. "Although I'll likely have a scar."

"It'll make you look manly," replied Emilia.

"I'm not sure a thousand scars could do that," he retorted.

"What have I told you about talking yourself down, Jonathan Crane?" she asked. "I won't hear another self-deprecating word out of you, do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, my dear," he said, kissing her.

"It is such a relief to see you two back together and happy again," said Tetch, passing them the scones. "There is far, far too much unhappiness and gloom in this world without adding more. And I daresay you both have had more than your fair share of it. It seems only just that you find happiness together now."

"Yes, it does," agreed Emilia, as Crane took a sip of tea.

"And on that note, have you thought of a date for the wedding?" asked Tetch.

"Today," replied Emilia, calmly.

Crane spat out his tea in shock. "To…today?" he repeated.

"Is that a problem for you, Jonathan?" asked Emilia. "I thought you'd be pleased. The sooner the better, don't you agree?"

"Well…yes, but…but we have…things to organize…I mean…I suppose I can wear a suit I already have, but…don't you need a dress?"

"I'm sure I can borrow one from Brittany that will do," replied Emilia. "She must have something white. And really if we're not having a church wedding or a reception, we just need to go to the courthouse and sign a paper and then we'll be married. I don't see any reason why we should put it off."

"I think it's a splendid idea!" exclaimed Tetch. "I agree – the sooner the better! You two should be apart no longer! Now eat up and we'll get going!"

"Rings! We don't have rings!" said Crane.

"We can pick up a pair on the way," replied Emilia. "And Lenore can't fly, but she can still hop down the aisle with them in her beak, can't you?" she asked the raven.

She cooed, nuzzling Crane. "I'll call Brittany after breakfast and tell her to meet us at the courthouse with a dress," continued Emilia. "This can be our last meal as single people, and we'll be Mr. and Mrs. Crane by lunchtime. How does that sound, Jonathan?"

He stared at her, and smiled. "Like a dream come true, my darling," he whispered, kissing her. "An impossible dream come true."

…

"You look utterly breathtaking, my angel," whispered Crane, as they stood outside the chamber in the courthouse, waiting for the justice of the peace. Emilia was dressed in a simple white dress - Brittany hadn't had anything suitable, so they had gone into a clothing store next to the jewelry store where they had bought the rings and just bought the first white dress they had seen. And yet it somehow suited Emilia as if it had been made specially for her. Or maybe it just seemed that way to Crane – a man in love was not an entirely impartial observer.

"And you look very handsome," she said, adjusting his tie. "But then I've always thought so."

He kissed her. "I do hope Jervis gets back here with Lenore before the justice is ready," he said, frowning. "She doesn't need much training to carry a pair of rings."

"Don't worry, Jonathan," she said. "Brittany's gone to get some snacks from the vending machine anyway. She eats when she's nervous. I, on the other hand, couldn't eat a bite – no room for food with the butterflies of excitement flitting around in my stomach."

"All right, we're ready!" said Tetch, heading down the hall toward them carrying Lenore, who had a small basket with two rings in her beak. "Is everyone here?"

"Here!" cried Brittany, racing down the hall and shoving the remains of a chocolate bar into her mouth.

"We just need to wait for…" said Crane, but suddenly an alarm blared through the building.

"What on earth…" began Crane, but then a familiar pair of figures rounded the corner, and Crane's face fell. "Oh no," he whispered.

"Johnny!" exclaimed the Joker, beaming at him. He had a gun in one hand and his son strapped to a baby carrier on his chest. Harley was right behind him, also with a gun and her daughter in a baby carrier. "What a pleasant surprise!"

"What…are you both doing here?" gasped Crane.

"Oh, one of our henchguys was on trial here today," said Joker. "We came to make sure he was found innocent by any methods necessary. Y'know," he added, winking and brandishing his gun, which he fired at several guards running down the hall toward them. The children giggled and clapped their hands, appearing to love the violence.

"What are you doing here, Johnny?" asked Harley, turning to him with a smile.

"Um…well…Emilia and I…are getting married," he stammered.

Harley gaped at him. "Married?" she repeated. "And…you didn't invite us to the wedding?"

"It was all very last minute, Harley…" began Crane.

"Boss, that's the last of the guards," said a heavyset henchman, rushing toward Joker. "But we'd better get outta here before the cops come…"

"So had you, Johnny!" chuckled Joker. "Otherwise you'll be dragged back to Arkham and the wedding'll have to wait twenty-five to life years!"

"Hang on!" snapped Harley. "Nobody's going nowhere! Roc, how long do you think we got before the cops arrive?"

"Uh…I dunno, Harley," replied the henchman. "Maybe twenty minutes?"

"Plenty of time," said Harley. "C'mon, you two, let's have this wedding," she said, nodding into the chamber.

"Oh…no, Harley, we'll rearrange…" began Crane.

"No, you won't!" she snapped. "I wanna be at your wedding, and I don't trust you to invite me to the next one! So just get in there and get it done now!"

Crane and Emilia shared a look. "Yes, all right, why not?" sighed Crane, opening the door to the chamber to see the justice of the peace cowering under his desk.

"You'll need to preside," he said, as the rest of the group piled into the room.

"Um…I don't…think…" began the justice.

"Want me to teach you how to shoot, J.J.?" cooed Joker. "I got this gun aimed right at that old guy's head, and all you gotta do is pull the trigger! Wanna try it, kiddo?"

J.J. giggled, and the justice gulped and began hastily. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of this man and this woman in marriage. If any here present know of any reason why they may not be joined, speak now or forever hold your peace."

"Last chance to confess your love, Tetchy!" chuckled Joker.

"Do you, Emilia Lee, take Jonathan Crane to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?"

"I do," whispered Emilia, beaming at Crane.

"And do you, Jonathan Crane, take Emilia Lee to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?"

"I do," said Crane, with tears in his eyes.

"Have you the rings?"

Lenore hopped forward, and Crane picked her up and placed her on the desk in front of them. They both signed the marriage certificate, and then Crane took the rings from Lenore, sliding one onto Emilia's finger, while she did the same for him.

"Then by the power vested in me by the people of Gotham City, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride," finished the justice, who then ducked back down to hide under his desk again.

Crane and Emilia shared a tender kiss, interrupted by J.J. pulling the trigger on his father's gun and sending several bullets shooting over their heads where the justice had been. "Bang bang!" he giggled.

"Nope, that's later tonight they'll be banging, kiddo!" laughed Joker.

Harley had burst into tears, and Arleen was gazing up at her mother in concern. "Mama?" she asked.

"I'm ok, baby," she whispered, kissing her. "I just…always cry at weddings. Even though this is the only one I've been to."

She hugged Crane. "Congrats, Johnny," she whispered. "I'm so happy for you."

And then she slapped him hard across the face. "And invite me to your wedding next time, huh?!" she snapped.

"Yes…Harley," he stammered.

"Good. C'mon, puddin', let's beat it before the cops show," she said, heading for the door. "Congrats again, Johnny!"

"Yeah, enjoy the first time sex!" chuckled Joker.

"It's not our first time!" shouted Crane after him.

"First time with a woman!" called back Joker. "And sorry again, Tetchy! It must suck to lose your boyfriend to a girl!"

"We'd best be going too, actually," said Tetch, ignoring Joker but following him out.

Brittany hadn't said a word the whole ceremony, but the moment they got outside, she turned to Emilia. "Marmaduke…knows the Joker?" she stammered.

Emilia sighed. "Marmaduke's not his real name, Brittany," she said. "And yes, he does."

"That…is so cool!" gasped Brittany. "My friend's husband knows Gotham celebrities!"

"Husband," repeated Emilia, smiling at Crane. "Now that _is _a strange thing to say."

"Not as strange as me saying my wife," murmured Crane. "My beautiful, beautiful wife."

They kissed again, which was interrupted this time by the sound of police sirens, forcing them to make a hasty exit. It wasn't until later that evening, in the same hotel room at the Gotham Hilton, that Mr. and Mrs. Crane finally got to share one long, uninterrupted kiss.


	19. Chapter 19

"I'm home, Jonathan!" called Emilia a few months later. She entered the living room to see Crane hard at work at his desk over some new plans, with Lenore perched next to him.

"What's all this?" she asked, putting her arms around his neck as Lenore nuzzled her, cooing happily.

"A scheme I'm working on – fear gassing the Gotham City council," replied Crane, kissing her.

"Do all those innocent politicians deserve to be fear gassed?" asked Emilia.

"Innocent politicians?" repeated Crane, raising an eyebrow. "Don't be oxymoronic, my dear."

She giggled, kissing him. "How was your self-defense class?" he asked. "I'm so relieved you're taking them – being my wife puts you in danger, and I feel better knowing you're prepared for that."

"Yes, well, you're lucky you're worth it," she retorted, kissing his cheek. "And actually…I didn't go today," she said, casually. "I went to the hospital instead."

"The hospital?" he repeated, concerned. "What about, my darling?"

She smiled. "Just…something I suspected for a couple weeks now. A very pleasant surprise."

"What sort of pleasant surprise do you need to go to the doctor for?" asked Crane, puzzled.

She grinned, and then bent down to whisper something in his ear. He stared at her. "You're…you're sure?"

She nodded, beaming at him. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Oh, my darling…my darling, it's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet and startling Lenore, who jumped back with a squawk. Crane picked Emilia up in his arms, spinning her around. "Oh, my angel, I am the luckiest man alive!"

"Yes, you are," she agreed. "And don't you ever forget that."

"Never, my darling," he agreed. "Never, from now on. There has never been a happier man in the whole world than Jonathan Crane."

…

Several months later, the Scarecrow returned to his home. He opened the front door and removed his mask, taking the needles of fear toxin off of his hands as he called, "I'm home, my darling!"

"In the living room, Jonathan!" called back Emilia.

Crane entered the room, bending down to kiss his wife, who sat on the sofa, writing in a notebook. Lenore was perched next to her, and cooed softly, nuzzling against Crane. "How's our child today?" he whispered, placing a hand over Emilia's swollen belly.

"Active," replied Emilia. "She certainly doesn't get that from either of us."

He laughed, kissing her again. "And how's the story coming along, my love?" he asked, nodding at the notebook.

"Mmm, very well," she replied, smiling at him. "But of course it's very easy to write, being based on true events. It really doesn't take any creativity on my part."

"Are you changing the names to protect the identities of those involved?" he asked. "Any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, that kind of thing?"

"I don't see why – I doubt I'll ever publish it," she replied. "But I wanted to write it anyway. It's a beautiful story, and it needs to be told. And we can read it over and over to each other when we're old and gray, surrounded by our children and grandchildren."

"You mean you want Katrina to have siblings?" asked Crane.

"Don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, but I'm not the one who has to go through the pregnancy or birth," he replied.

"Well, I'm stronger than I look, Jonathan," she replied, grinning.

"I know that, my love," he whispered, kissing her. "I would never underestimate your strength."

Emilia rubbed her belly as Crane petted Lenore. "You like Katrina, then?" she asked.

"I love it," he replied. "_The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_ was the first book you read after we met – it seems appropriate."

"Mmm, that it does, Professor Crane," she murmured, kissing him. "If our next child is a boy, we should call him Ichabod."

"Poor boy," said Crane, dryly.

Emilia grinned at him. "I still need a title for my story," she said, flipping to the front page of the notebook. "Nothing I've come up with sounds right. Any ideas?"

Crane thought for a moment. "_The Bride of the Scarecrow_?" he suggested.

Emilia looked at him. "You know, as much as I love you, Jonathan Crane, I do hate you sometimes," she muttered. "I spend days and weeks agonizing over the title, and you just come up with a perfect one on the spot like that. It's simply not fair," she said, writing it down.

"Well, maybe if you read more, you'd be able to come up with snappy titles quickly too, my dear," he said, lightly.

"I've read more than you!" she retorted.

"I highly doubt that," replied Crane, grinning. "I'm older than you."

"I'm a faster reader than you," she retorted.

He scoffed. "That hardly seems likely, my love."

"Is that a challenge?" she asked. "Because I'll win that contest. We time how long it takes both of us to read the same book, and I guarantee I'll win."

"Only if we can do that in bed together," he replied.

"So we can make sure we don't cheat?" she asked. "By keeping an eye on one another?"

"Because I want to be in bed with you," he murmured, kissing her. "I would like to spend this evening reading in bed with my wife."

Emilia smiled. "It's little things like that, Jonathan Crane, that make me simply adore you," she murmured. "Most men come home eager for sex, but you just want to read in bed with your wife."

"I do," he agreed, kissing her and helping her stand up. "Of course if you're in the mood for sex later, there's no reason why we couldn't…"

"Don't ruin the moment, Jonathan, or you won't get sex later," she interrupted, putting down the notebook.

"Yes, dear," he said, replacing Lenore on her perch.

She laughed, kissing him again, and then took his hand and led him up to the bedroom. "Come on, let's go find something good to read."

**The End**


End file.
